


In High School

by Zig_Zag_F1



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Alex the Soccer player, Alternate Universe - High School, American High School AU, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bullying, Charles the Goth Kid, Crack, Crush, Daniel being a dork, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Genderbent Nico Rosberg, George the cyclist, Gratuitous descriptions of goth Charles, Hand Jobs, Immaturity, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Insecure Lando, Jenson is George's older brother, Jos Verstappen's A+ Parenting, Lando the dork, M/M, Marijuana, Max the Football Player, Minor Violence, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romain the bad guy even though I don't hate him, Roughness, Silly, Sloooow burn, Sports, Swearing, Teacher-student relationship from a distance, Weird, being in the closet, dumb, totally oblivious tall bois
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-01-30 22:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 51,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21435412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zig_Zag_F1/pseuds/Zig_Zag_F1
Summary: Everybody on the grid (and some former) in an AU as American highschool students. It's a really weird and likely pretty stupid setting. All the stereotypes and all the ugliness included of course. Unasked for and definitely completely uncalled for.Tags to be added as I go.
Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell, Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen, Daniel Ricciardo/Jean-Eric Vergne if you squint, Kimi Räikkönen/Sebastian Vettel (from a distance), Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr, Lewis Hamilton/Nicola Rosberg
Comments: 127
Kudos: 300





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I couldn't get the idea of goth Charles Leclerc out of my head and then other things kept joining that and I decided okay fine I'll write some crappy AU which I almost never do. But here we are. 
> 
> Be forewarned, tags will be added and there will be some triggering things and also some sexual content and other objectionable content as we go, so the ratings will change as well. I will also note any objectionable stuff in notes before the specific chapters. 
> 
> Also, let's hope I get somewhat through this and don't lose total vision and momentum and wind up abandoning it, because you never know with me or my brain.

The hall was hazy with smoke. The lighting was dim, broken only by the flashes of strobe lighting and the random disco ball hanging from the livingroom ceiling, and it was very loud everywhere. People talking, loud music playing, laughter, thumps and screams and random other sounds filled the house and Max's ears until it seemed a bit overwhelming. He stumbled on though, heading onto the back deck and joining the group gathered there around the small fire. _Thank goodness for fresh air_. 

"Yo, Max, sup dude?"

Max waved a casual hand at Carlos, but didn't say anything. Carlos was too drunk to notice anyway. He raised his plastic cup again and tapped it against someone else's, spilling a little of the contents out as he did so. Max kept walking. It wasn't very late yet, so not everyone here was smashed, he noticed with some relief as he got closer to the pool. 

"Max!" Someone called from ahead, and in the subtle lights that rimmed the pool, he could see his friend Alex. 

"Hey," he answered, coming closer. "What's up?"

"Oh, not much, not much. Went for a swim. You going in?" 

Max shook his head. "I dunno, I'll probably head home. Got practice after school tomorrow and you know what Guenther will say if we're not in good shape."

"I know, he'll probably take a piece out of me if I show up late again," Alex agreed guiltily. "But don't worry, I'm not staying much longer. I think I'll kick it until maybe midnight and then head home."

"I'll probably head home in a bit," Max replied. "I'm not feeling it tonight."

"Yeah, I got you. I mean, this is a bomb-ass party, but...there's a lot of folks here. I've just been staying outside."

"Mm," Max answered, not really sure why he felt off. "I've had a few drinks, I'm good, you know. Lewis always goes a little overboard on these things anyway."

Alex laughed. "I haven't even seen him all night. Bet he's upstairs with Nicola."

Max smirked. "Probably. Fuck that guy anyway, he's such a braggy douche."

"Yeah, I hate how he never shuts up about how he's such a star on the football field and we only ever win because of him and blah blah. It's so fucking old."

Max snorted. "Tell me about it. You don't even have to listen to him on the field like I do."

"Well, there's more than one reason why I only play soccer now." Alex rolled his eyes. "He's too over the top to handle. Hey, wanna go for a swim before you go?"

Max thought about it for a moment. After all, he had put his swimming trunks on under his joggers in case. "Sure." He stripped off his shirt and pants and threw them on the plastic lawnchair nearby. Alex slid back into the pool, dove underwater and swam further out and back again, popping out and looking up. "Coming?"

"Yep," said Max, and he pushed off the ledge and into the cool water. It was a slight shock, but the night was humid and hot, so it felt pleasant. He chased after Alex, grabbing his heel while he kicked and struggled to get away for a second before they both surfaced next to one another. Alex splashed water in Max's face, but it was half-hearted. Neither were in the mood to expend much effort.

Someone turned up the music on the deck and a pop song filtered through to the pool. Alex pushed over to the ledge and picked up his cup, taking a long drink. When he put it down, he noticed Max hadn't brought any drink. "Want some?" He asked, but Max shook his head. 

"Nah. I'm done for the evening. Already had my share doing shots in the livingroom with Daniel."

Alex rolled his eyes. "What were they this time? Peach schnapps? Buttery nipples?"

Max colored slightly, but it was too dark for Alex to see. "Just whiskey."

"Daniel's gone traditional. How odd."

"I know. He must be losing his touch," Max agreed, a little laughter in his voice. 

They swam to the end of the pool and back, doing loops and then lazily floating for a while, not saying anything, just enjoying the cool soak in the hot, early fall air. Max upended himself after several minutes and took to swimming laps again, but he took his time about it, gliding back and forth while Alex laid on his back, floating with his eyes closed. 

Finally, Max's arms were slightly tired and he grew tired of swimming back and forth and round and round. Alex had made his way back to the edge of the pool and had his cup in hand again, downing the rest of the contents. 

Max paddled over to him. "Hey, I think I'm gonna take off, okay?"

"Yeah, cool," Alex answered, carefully setting his empty cup down. "I think I'll go too. I'm over this."

Max hoisted himself out of the water and onto the tiles, shaking himself like a dog to try and get rid of some of the water dripping off of his body. 

"I have a towel," Alex called to him as he came up the pool ladder and headed towards the plastic deck chairs. His soaked hair trailed down to his collar and seemed longer to Max now that it was wet. He followed Alex over to the chairs and Alex toweled off his own head and body quickly before throwing the towel at Max.

Max raised a hand and caught it easily. "Thanks." He dried himself as best he could, inwardly deciding that when he got inside he'd head into the bathroom and change clothing and just go commando.

Alex took the towel back and added it to his pile of clothing, slid his feet into flip-flops, and went back to the edge of the pool to pick up his plastic cup. Max looked about for the chair that he'd set his clothing on and realized it was on the other side of the pool. 

"See you tomorrow!" He called to Alex as he headed over to retrieve his items. Alex waved enthusiastically before turning and walking up towards the bright and noisy house again. Max continued around the pool and found his clothing where he'd left them. He picked them up, taking his running shoes in the other hand, and turned to make his way towards the house as well. 

He decided to go around to the side entrance where there would be less people, so he took a less well lit path heading off to the side. There were trees lining the side of the house, and Max stepped off the tile surrounding the pool and walked towards the treeline a few feet away. He felt tired all of the sudden, even though he really hadn't had much to drink, and he wanted to go home. He kept his eyes up, focused on the side door.

Suddenly, his foot struck something and he almost fell. At the same instant, someone gave a small cry, and Max realized there was someone sitting under the tree that he hadn't been able to see from the pool. He straightened up quickly and looked down. 

"Hey," said Charles. "You stepped on my leg."

"Didn't see you," Max answered roughly. "What did you expect, you're wearing all black and it's dark."

Charles just shrugged. A little light coming from the house glinted off the metal necklaces around his neck and the silver chain that hung off his belt. All the rest of his clothing was black, his pants had rips in them and he was wearing some kind of jacket covering everything but his face, which was extremely pale in the darkness. 

"Maybe you should look where you're going," Charles said then, eyes narrow.

"Have you been sitting here the whole evening?" Max asked, not sure why he wanted to know, but feeling a bit creeped out by the idea.

"Yep," said Charles, reaching a hand down to fidget with the tears in his jeans. 

"Fucking creep," Max muttered at him, and walked away up the hill, approaching the side door of the house before looking back. Now that he knew someone was there, he could make out Charles' outline, but nothing more. _Fucking loser goth kid._ He rolled his eyes and opened the door, entering the basement of the house and beating a hasty path to the bathroom, where he changed back into dry clothing. 

*******************

Under the tree, Charles watched as Max hastily walked away from him. The words _fucking creep_ filtered over him, but he ignored it. He was used to the names by now, he didn't care. He opened his phone and turned on the flashlight for just an instant, finding what he had been holding before Max stepped on him. Then he turned the flashlight off immediately and waited. No one came, no one had seen. Carefully, Charles turned the object in the tiny slivers of light that came from the house and examined it. When he was satisfied, he leaned back against the trunk of the tree again.

Slowly, his eyes dropped closed.


	2. Chapter 2

When George's alarm goes off, he is not pleased, and he groans loudly. Thankfully, there's no one around to hear him because by the time he gets up, everyone else in his household has already gone their separate ways. Plus, with Jenson having moved out last month, things are a lot quieter anyway.

He drags himself out of bed and checks his phone, where he sees a snapchat message from Alex. In it, Alex is shirtless and soaked, standing next to a pool in the semi-darkness. George assumes it's Lewis' house. That's where most of the parties seem to end up being held. 

Alex grinning and making a peace sign at him, and the words on the picture read: **Hey, why aren't you here?**

George sucks in a breath and forces himself not to screenshot that message because he knows if he does Alex will be notified and how awkward would that be? _Yeah bro, no homo..._

_Should I reply?_

He decides not to. He'll see Alex in about an hour anyway and he's not going to bother explaining via text or snapchat right now.

Besides, he doesn't look very neat right now anyway and _damn, there's no way my abs look as...insanely hot...as his. It's not like I don't work out, but man._

He sighs heavily, lamenting again what a misfortune it is to have fallen under the spell of Mr. Alex Albon, soccer star, teenage heartthrob, and general hottie. _Also, best friend since middle school, and equally longtime crush, but let's not go that far back right now._

George hopes this is the year he'll get over Alex finally. It's not like he hasn't been trying, especially since he's really not gay, but so far his efforts have been in vain.

It doesn't help that when he hops into the shower, he fails to keep himself from jerking off imagining how those rock-hard abs feel.

**************************

Alex always waits for him by the south entrance. It's been like that since they used to ride different buses and meet up when they arrived and now that they both drive themselves and have their own cars, it's the same. So, like every other day, when he walks into the building, Alex is leaning against the wall, dressed casually in his usual sports apparel, scrolling through his phone. He looks up a moment after George walks in and waves. 

"Did you see my snapchat? I thought you were coming to Lewis' house."

"I saw it this morning. I was going to come but..."

"...you fell asleep," Alex finishes, shaking his head. "You know, you're a sophomore now, you really ought to be better at staying out late and getting into trouble. Jenson isn't even around to tattle."

George rolls his eyes. "You don't get into trouble either, unless you call having a drink or two and calling it quits before 2am and showing up looking well rested "trouble.""

Alex smacks him lightly. "Hey, I'm a bad boy."

George doesn't let that thought run away with him, but he definitely is sealing it away for later. "Yeah, okay, Mr. Athlete of the Year."

Alex turns a little pink and just shakes his head. George elbows him. 

They walk down the hall, purposely lagging because neither one of them want to get to math early. Mr. Horner is too enthusiastic about his subject and his students, and it's far better to walk in just an instant before class starts to avoid the weird high-fives and awkward jokes. 

A figure in black turns the corner and bumps into George before backing up, looking at him, and mumbling, "sorry." He has headphones over his ears and the music is so loud they can both hear it.

"Hey Charles," Alex says cheerfully, but Charles just nods at him and continues down the hall.

"What's his deal, anyway?" George asks out loud, and Alex motions at him to lower his voice. "He never used to be like that," George finishes more quietly.

Alex shrugs. "I think it all started when his dad died."

George nods, because it makes sense. It's not like they know Charles, really, but they've grown up attending the same schools and the same events, and they can both remember a time before Charles only wore black and never spoke to anyone. 

"It's strange to think he used to be popular." George frowns, remembering middle school girls fighting over who would date Charles. 

Alex nods. "Who knows, man. Hey, let's hurry, it's getting close to time."

They pick up the pace right before they hear the sound of footsteps loudly running up behind them. They share a look before turning around. 

"Hey, wait up!" Lando yells, backpack swinging wildly on his back, hair mussed and eyes looking red with sleep deprivation. 

They wait, and George can't resist ribbing Lando when he joins them. "You're not late for once!"

Lando rolls his eyes. "Very funny. I'll have you know I am not always late."

"Just mostly," Alex says.

"Fuck off," Lando says groaning. "I don't know why they have to start so early in the morning every day!"

"Maybe it's more that you stay up way too late playing video games every night," George offers, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Lando that makes him fall into Alex. Alex catches him, laughing, and George hangs on just a second too long.

They reach the door to the classroom and rush inside to take their seats right in the nick of time.

****************

George and Alex walk to the cafeteria together later, which is also something they always do, and usually Lando joins them, but today he says he's going to "go score some" (with a wink) and George and Alex both roll their eyes and agree to meet him later after school. 

"He's turning into a fucking stoner," George says to Alex as they find a table in the corner of the loud room.

Alex laughs. "Not yet, but we'll have to watch him. Last time he was at my house he got the munchies and my mom definitely noticed there were a lot of snacks missing."

George facepalms dramatically and Alex chuckles again. "Great. I'll have to keep an eye on him. Right now though, what do you want to do for lunch? Nothing good on the menu today."

They like the same things and there's only so many good meals the school makes, so it's a pretty regular thing for them to jump into one of their cars and go get food elsewhere. 

"Mmm, maybe Panera?" Alex suggests. 

George groans. "You always pick that."

"No, last week I picked Five Guys."

"Well, that was unusual." 

"So? I still picked it," Alex argues. "I just like to eat healthier, you know."

George makes a face at him. "Believe me, I know."

"It's just that there's not that many healthy places for quick food!" Alex complains defensively, holding up his hands. "And I can't stand greasy and gross fast food crap. I'm picky about what I eat, is that so wrong?"

"It's how you have those beautiful abs, so no, of course not," George says, and then he realizes that came out weird, and Alex is looking at him, so he adds quickly, "Better watch out, the girls will be lining up around the block if you let them see too much of that."

_And I'd be right there with them._

Alex shoves his shoulder and laughs at him. _Saved it._

"Fine, Panera. We have to get going or we won't have time." 

"Aww, look at you letting me have my way. How sweet," Alex jibes him, poking his ribs as they walk out. 

"Anything you want baby," George says in a silly falsetto voice, earning a cackle and an eye roll from Alex. _It's a good thing you don't know how true that is._

"Your car or mine?" Alex asks at the door. 

"Mine, it's closer," George answers, and they head outside into the fall air. 

"How do you know it's closer?" 

"I saw yours on the way in this morning," George answers dismissively. _Yeah, saw it because I looked for it, but let's not get into that._

"Okay, yours it is," Alex agrees, and they weave their way through the parking lot over to George's white Volkswagen. Alex calls it a "mom car," but George doesn't care. His parents gave it to him last summer and he wasn't about to complain about the gift, especially when the alternative was driving Jensen's old junked up Honda Accord another year.

With Alex in the passenger seat and music playing through the speakers, George pulls out of the school parking lot and heads down the street.

He pushes away the desire that's been nagging his brain lately every time they do this--the desire to reach over and hold Alex's hand. 

_Yeah, no. That would not go over well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, George Russell's first car really was a VW, a VW Polo to be exact. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this weird meandering thing.


	3. Chapter 3

After school, Alex usually has soccer practice, and George isn't really big on team sports. He did try once, in middle school, and although he wasn't bad, he didn't enjoy himself, so he's never really wanted to try again. Alex, on the other had, started out absolutely terrible but had a great time, so he's been playing something ever since.

Last year he made the football team, but then he mostly sat on the bench and eventually elected to stop showing up altogether, a fact which no one noticed for three weeks. When they did notice, nothing much happened. 

Secretly, George was relieved when it happened. He didn't like football, especially with all the head injuries, and he'd read a lot about Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy. The idea of his best friend getting brain damage was very worrying and he'd pestered Alex about it several times. With Alex just playing soccer now, he felt much more at ease with the idea. Not that he'd admit that to Alex.

When they walk out into the parking lot at the end of today, Alex breaks off and turns toward his car, giving George a wave and a grin. "See you later!" 

"Bye!" George calls, waving back. Alex heads off towards his old green Kia and George sighs. It's Monday, and he knows Alex will probably show up at his house later, but the intermediary time is annoying. _I'm such a fucking sap. _It's not like George doesn't have things to do. Besides homework, he also plans to go for a good bicycle ride like he does every day in preparation for the High School Cycling League race this weekend. But he'd rather hang out and crack stupid jokes and play video games and go running with Alex. _Or do anything with Alex. _He smacks his forehead in annoyance with himself. _Why are you such a fucking sop?_

George approaches his car only to find Lando leaning on it, looking at his phone. He looks up and grins at George. George rolls his eyes. "Yes, fine, I'll give you a ride."

"Thanks, man!"

"I thought you told me Max was giving you rides this week? What happened to that?" George asks, feigning annoyance but not really minding. Lando's a good friend, after all. 

"He left at lunchtime. Some dentist appointment or something."

"Mm," George responds absently. He throws his backpack in the back seat and Lando follows suit, climbing into the passenger seat as George starts the car. "You're not picking the music, Lando, don't even think about it!"

"Finnnneee," Lando whines, retracting his hand from the stereo system. "Why do you hate all my musicccc? it's good shit!"

George just rolls his eyes and his bluetooth system defaults to his spotify playlist, picking up on an old Linkin Park song. Lando brightens up. "Okay, this is okay."

"I'm glad I can please you, oh passenger of my car," George says sarcastically, and Lando flips him off.

George just laughs. "Who did you buy pot from at lunch?" He asks curiously, because he knows Lando's usual dealer, Daniel, wasn't at school today.

Lando colors slightly, which George thinks is odd, until Lando admits guiltily, "Carlos."

"You went to Carlos?" George asks, shaking his head. "Dude, if anyone finds out you two are hanging out, they'll think you're part of his delinquent bullshit too!"

"He's not a delinquent," Lando argues, frowning. "He's not even on probation anymore, and it was just for underage alcohol possession. Fuck, anyone could've gotten charged with that!"

"I thought he got caught shoplifting from Target a while back."

"Nope," Lando says. "That was Sergio Perez. He actually _is_ a delinquent."

"I'm not surprised. I always see him hanging around with that Esteban Ocon kid who moved here last year. You know, the tall kid who got arrested for starting a fire in the dumpster?" George wrinkles his nose distastefully. He stays as far away from both of those two as he can.

"Exactly. Carlos doesn't hang out with them anyway," Lando says firmly. "What, do you just think all the spanish guys are criminals. You racist!" He mockingly points at George, but he's cackling.

"Oh fuck off," George laughs. "You know very well it's not that."

"I know," Lando says, still grinning. "Anyway, I bought pot from Carlos this time and it was gooooood shit. Do you want any?"

"No, I'm good." 

"Okay cool," Lando nods. "Alex still doesn't like it?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" George asks, a bit too abruptly.

Lando raises his eyebrows, confused, and then backtracks. "I mean, do you think Alex wants any? Because I thought he didn't like it. If he does want some though, he can have some."

"Oh," says George, a little embaressed by his own defensiveness. "No, he doesn't smoke. Says it makes him feel woozy and sick."

"You're supposed to feel woozy. He's such a weirdo." 

George cracks a smile. "He is a weirdo. But one time I got him to smoke some and it really did make him sick."

"Did he have too much?" 

"Not unless one not that large hit is too much," George retorts. 

Lando shrugs. "Well, it's not for everybody I guess. More for me then!"

George just shakes his head and laughs at that.

He drops Lando at the curb next to his house and waves at him as he walks up the driveway before pulling back onto the road and heading home. 

***************************

Soccer practice is long, hot, and boring. By the end, Alex is soaking with sweat, feeling gross and miserable, and all he wants is to drink a gallon of water and get in the shower.

"All right team!" Zak shouts. "That'll do it for today! Have a good night, see you tomorrow!"

Everyone groans. Alex makes a beeline for the water cooler, pours a cup over his head, and then downs a few successive cups before his thirst is gone. He throws the cup away, wipes his face, and follows the rest of the players towards the locker room. 

As he enters the gymnasium building, Max comes up alongside him, still wearing his football pads, helmet in hand. "Hey Alex."

"Hey, how's it going?" Alex says, wiping his face again.

Max looks equally sweaty. "Practice was bullshit," he complains. "Gunther was pissed."

Alex makes a face and mimics the voice of the Athletic department's head coach. "Vat is this? You all look like a bunch of jerk-offs! Vat do you sink you are doing??"

Max stifles a laugh, tagging his arm quickly and nodding up the hall. "Shush! He could hear you."

"Oooh," Alex covers his mouth, eyes looking around hastily, but no one appears, especially not Mr. Steiner, and they make it to the locker rooms safely.

The first thing they hear inside the locker room is Lewis groaning about something and they share a look and an eye roll. 

"Some things never change, huh?" Alex mutters, and Max snorts. 

"How did they expect me to run on that field? It's so bumpy! Apparently no one ever thinks to actually fix it sometime," Lewis is griping loudly, rifling through his duffel bag, surrounded by what Max and Alex have sarcastically dubbed his "fanclub."

"I know, it's ridiculous," Valterri sympathizes, leaning against the wall near Lewis. The hulkingly muscular star linebacker looks more bored than agitated, however. 

"Well, you're pretty handy out there on the worst days, I'm sure you'll find a way to manage it," agrees Seb, the blonde safety who the football team all have great reverence for, even though he's only a junior, not a senior like Lewis. 

"Fucking blondie," Max mutters, opening his locker next to Alex. Well, that is, almost everyone has reverence for him. Max clearly doesn't, but that's not unusual. Max was the first freshman to be a quarterback in the school's history, and he shows no signs of giving up the position, so everyone just has to put up with him for the sake of winning games, because Max really is that good.

Alex is always grateful that he is not a part of the football team at all anymore. He was a second string kicker last year and he got tired of the whole thing pretty fucking quickly. In moments like this one, with Lewis being such a loudmouth, Alex remembers again just how annoying it was to be on the team. _Besides, George wouldn't stop nagging me about how dangerous it was, _he remembers fondly. _George is such a worrier, but it's pretty..._the word that comes to Alex's mind is _adorable, _but he refuses to think it. Instead, he hops into the shower and sighs in relief as the sweat and heat are washed away by the cold water. 

When he's dressed again, Max is already gone and so are most of the others. He nods casually to his teammate Daniil as they pass, and he grabs his gym bag and heads into the hall, out the side door, and into the parking lot. 

_Alright, go home, do homework, meet George for a run. _

But he's also hungry, so he thinks of a better idea. He pulls out his phone and texts George. **Hey, I'm gonna cook something. Wanna come over?**

**Yep, how soon?**

**Give me like fifteen, **Alex texts back. 

**ok.**

Alex slides into his car and shoves his bag onto the passenger seat with a sigh. He's tired, and he doesn't know if he'll be able to force himself to go for a run, but it'll be nice to have George over to help cook and have dinner. _Maybe we can watch a movie or do something else afterwards. I'm getting tired of playing video games with Lando. _

A tiny little part of his brain has completely inappropriate suggestions for what _do something else _might involve, but he shuts that thought down before it can even get going. _George is your friend. Don't be ridiculous. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I mean no offense to anyone in this jumble of junk. It's all in good fun. 
> 
> Also, if you aren't aware, because this is US high school, football is American football and Soccer is what the heathens in the US call the sport that is actually called football. This has been a PSA.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing sexually explicit in this chapter, but strong hints and some alcohol fueled stuff, so be warned.  
There's also some mild violence, but I don't think it's super strong.

Gym bag hanging heavily from his shoulder, Max follows the sidewalk around the back of the building to the quiet corner near the dumpsters where he parked his small motorbike. Since he's still too young to own a vehicle, the only thing he can legally drive is this, but he doesn't mind. He's staring at his phone, scrolling through the latest on Instagram when as he passes the hedges and looks up to step off the curb, pocketing his phone as he approaches his black motorbike. 

On the curb next to it, he sees someone sitting with the hood of their black sweatshirt pulled up. He knows who it is. 

"Charles."

Charles looks up and then gets up to his feet quickly. "Hey Max, I...would you...can I..."

"You want a ride?" Max asks dryly. 

Charles looks down. "Would you mind? My ride bailed on me." He looks away.

Max sighs and looks around, but it's late in the day and there's no one back here or paying attention to them at all, so he reluctantly nods. "Yeah. Get on, I guess."

"Thanks."

Max doesn't reply. He knows Charles lives too far away to walk and that his mom works a lot and they're too poor to afford a second car for Charles to drive, so he can't bring himself to say no and force Charles to walk home. It's not the first time he's given Charles a ride either, but he's always careful not to let anyone see them together. Charles is not exactly the kind of company he should be keeping as the star quarterback.

He puts his helmet on, but he doesn't have a second one, and Charles knows that. 

"You'll have to hold my duffel," Max says roughly, handing Charles the bag. Charles just nods and climbs on behind him. He puts his hands on Max's shoulders lightly, but it still makes Max stiffen for a moment. But he can't very well tell Charles to not hold on, so he just forces himself to kick the bike into gear and get going out of the parking lot. 

They don't talk. Not only is it too hard to be heard, Max isn't really sure what they'd say to each other anyway. It's an awkward ten minute ride. Max is acutely aware of Charles' hands on his shoulders. 

When they reach Charles' apartment complex, Max halts at the curb and Charles hops off and carefully drapes the strap of the duffel bag over Max's shoulders. "Thank you," he says, eyes meeting Max's for just an instant. Then he's gone, like a shadow scurrying into the building. 

Max is a little taken aback, and he's not sure why. The little gesture with the bag maybe? The second of eye contact? He accelerates off down the street before he can think any more about it because it makes him feel strange. 

He shoots home quickly, relieved when he sees that his father's car isn't in the other side of the garage. _Thank god, he's working late. _He lets himself into the kitchen and the house is silent, which means Victoria isn't home either, and he's not surprised. 

He hauls his stuff upstairs and shuts the door to his room, dropping onto the bed momentarily, breathing out like he'd been holding his breath. He fights the urge to close his eyes and forces himself to do his homework, because he knows his father will kill him if it's not complete. 

*****************************

When George lets himself into Alex's back door, he can smell something that means Alex is already cooking something. "Helloooooo!" He calls out as he heads through the mudroom and into the kitchen. 

"Hey!" Alex says, leaning over the stove stirring something. He looks up when George enters and grins in his easy way. 

"No one else home?" George asks, but he knows the answer. 

Alex shakes his head. "As usual!" 

"Lucky," George ribs him. 

Alex shrugs. "Hey, I hope you don't mind potato soup? We need to go grocery shopping so I don't have any french bread to go with it, sorry."

"My mom was going to make frozen lasagna, so yeah, of course I'm fine with it."

"Awesome," Alex says. "It's almost ready." He reaches over and taps his phone and music pours from a speaker via bluetooth connection. Alex grins and whirls around in a very clumsy dance, and George laughs at him. 

"I can only tell you one thing, on the nights you feel outnumbered, baby I'll be out there somewhere," Alex sings loudly, his voice very much not on key, but George just laughs hysterically. He should be used to Alex's goofy ways by now, but he can't help it, he loves these silly moments. _I love you, you crazy weirdo._

"What, you don't like my singing?" Alex asks, faking outrage. 

"No, no, of course I don't mind! Continue, good sir!" George says, bowing low mockingly. Alex smacks him with a dishtowel and turns back to the stove to add a few more ingredients. George goes to the cupboard and gets out the dishes, setting the tables and seating himself, sending Alex a few more ribbing comments that make Alex scoff at him.

They eat quickly, and of course, the soup is good like it always is, because Alex is a decent cook, (much better than George would be, he knows this) and when they're done and the dishes are in the sink, Alex suggests a couple rounds of video game racing, and George agrees. 

"I still have homework though," he admits.

"Me too, but we can do it after a bit, huh?" Alex says. 

"Yeah," George agrees immediately, and they go to Alex's bedroom and settle themselves on the bed while Alex loads the game. Lando is already online when they join.

George doesn't say anything, but he's secretly wishing that for once Lando would not be around and they could just play video games together, just him and Alex, and he could talk to Alex without either of them having to worry about answering Lando. 

Lando starts a group call at that moment, which George saw coming, and which he very much resents, but he is careful to say nothing about it out loud. 

"Hey, Lando," Alex says. 

"Heeyyyy! Sup losers!" Lando says, voice sounding a bit off through the speakers. 

"Hey, are you high?" George asks, partially because Lando sounds weirder than usual and partially because he's feeling spiteful and he can't say anything actually rude.

"Yeah man! Super good shit," Lando says, sending his onscreen car into a wall. 

"Right, well, good for you," Alex says, but he rolls his eyes, which Lando can't see. George snickers at it. 

"I think I'm gonna buy my shit from Carlos all the time from now on!" Lando says, giggling randomly in the middle of the sentence. 

"Okay mate. Watch what you're doing though," Alex replies as Lando restarts the race and immediately crashes again.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, I gotta eat something and then I'll be fine," Lando says. "Be back next round. Gimme a minute." And he disconnects. 

George sighs audibly, which he didn't mean to do, and he glances sideways at Alex. Alex is looking at him thoughtfully. 

"What?" George asks.

"I don't know about him. He's never smoked twice in one day before, or even used to smoke every day, or even every week. Do you think he's an addict?"

George shrugs. "I doubt it. He's just being wild. Give it a few days, he'll move on. That's Lando for you. If not, we'll go and have a good stern conversation with him. How about that, Mr. Albon?"

Alex shoves his shoulder. "Okay, Mr. Russell."

"It doesn't work on me. I'm not an old grownup like you."

"Fuck off," Alex says, and shoves him again. George digs his shoulder into Alex's to retaliate, and then they're in a pushing fight, forgetting about the race since Lando isn't in it right now anyway. Then George starts to try to tickle Alex, and Alex fights back, and they're in the midst of a monumental struggle when Lando's voice (_you have the worst timing Lando, fuck) _startles them both. 

"Hey, I'm back!" 

George, who is halfway off the bed, fights Alex, who is leaning down on top of him, trying to get back up onto the bed. They're both still laughing, George because Alex is still tickling him. 

"Hey, Al...Al...Alex! Let me up! Alex!" 

"Beg harder!" Alex challenges, grinning an evil grin. 

"Guys, if you're having a moment, I can come back," Lando's voice says. 

Alex sits up and throws a hand down to George and drags him up, pulling him back onto the bed. George scrambles up, suddenly concerned as he crawls over Alex's legs to the side of the bed he was sitting on before the fight started. 

He's very, very conscious, suddenly, as he's climbing over, that he has a hard-on, and it's obvious. He does his best to think of something to do, panic suddenly sweeping him. _Fuck! Fuck, he'll know something is up now. He's going to know!_

Alex looks at him, and George knows he sees, but he says nothing. 

George happens to glance down that moment and he sees an odd bulge in Alex's joggers. His heartbeat suddenly goes out of control. _Is that...is that...is that...? Don't stare, keep moving idiot, it's probably just the fabric._

Alex looks at him again and George knows he looked just a bit too long. He looks away. There's a second of silence, and Alex adjusts his joggers in a way that does not at all help George's situation or his wild thoughts. 

Lando's voice is saying something about how neither of them are joining in time, but George is trying to figure out where to look. _Not at his pants, not at his pants, not at his eyes, not at him at all...fuck, fuck. He totally has a hardon. Doesn't he? Oh my god, I can't...what the fuck do I do..._

He sneaks a look at Alex. Alex is looking at him, full on looking into his eyes, and George freezes. They're locked into eye contact like that for what seems like an hour. George's dick throbs painfully. He wants to look down and see if Alex is still hard, but he doesn't risk it.

Alex suddenly hands him the controller back and picks up his own. "Shall we join Lando before he goes insane?" He asks, speaking loudly so that Lando can hear. 

"Fuck off! You're taking forever, that's all!" Lando yells.

George looks at Alex, and Alex looks at him, and George just nods, shifting to try and alleviate the pressure on his lower parts. 

After a moment, he sees Alex shift as well. But Alex doesn't look at him, and they go on and join the race, and by the time a few more rounds have gone by and Lando has regaled them all with a lot of random inappropriate jokes, George isn't hard anymore. But he still doesn't know what to think. 

Alex acts perfectly normal. 

_Maybe it really was all in my head. _

When he leaves that night, George can't stop playing the whole thing over and over, trying to read the details, searching for anything he may have missed, but he can't figure any of it out and it all seems like a blur. 

He doesn't sleep until he gets off thinking about Alex on top of him. 

******************

Max finishes his homework and is too keyed up to think about playing video games. He's considering his options when he hears the door shut downstairs. He peeks through the blinds and doesn't see Victoria's car. 

_Fuck. It's Dad._

Max sighs and runs his fingers through his hair quickly, thankful he planned ahead and did his assignments already. He quickly grabs his current literature curriculum book though and pretends to be reading it as he hears his father mounting the stairs. 

"Max? You home?" 

"Yeah," Max calls back. "In my room."

"Finished your homework?" His father opens the door and looks in at him sternly.

"Yeah, just about to be done."

"What are you doing after that?"

"Figured I'd go out."

"You go get 'em. This is the time in your life when the girls will be crawling over each other to get to you. You get out there and conquer them! Be a man out there."

"Yes, sir."

"Good man. Have fun." And he winks before he closes the door. 

Max lets out a breath slowly and throws on a hoodie. He really doesn't want to go out, but he certainly doesn't want to stay home with his father alone, and _hell, a drink wouldn't be too bad now._

There's a party at Nicola's tonight, a house which Max normally would not frequent under any circumstances, but tonight he wants a drink and it's the only place he knows a minor like himself can easily find it. He lets himself in the back door and he can see Nicola sitting on the kitchen island in panties and a t-shirt, shamelessly slutting it up for a very drunk Lewis. 

Max feels gross at the sight and goes the long way around the rooms of the house to avoid passing nearby the two of them. In the sunroom, he finds Kevin and Nico off their asses drunk with a few 24 packs of cheap beer still sitting on the floor in various stages of empty around them. They're threatening to have a fist fight, and Max wants no part of that, so he just snags the remainder of a case of Blue Moon and retreats to the outside porch. It's dark, and Nicola's house is out of town a ways, so the stars are bright. 

It's nice. And quiet. And there's no one to bother him. 

Max downs a few beers quickly and then sips a fourth more slowly, reveling in the buzz. 

Then he adds a fifth, pleased that he begins to feel a little more of a lift. 

Six, and he thinks he's good. Everything is a little blurry, but he can see fairly straight, and he doesn't plan to go home anyway. He knows his father won't care if he spins some story about a hot girl and hot sex. He laughs humorlessly at the thought. _Fuck that, I don't fucking want to bother with that shit. I don't like any of these stupid bitches who follow the football team around and girls are a lot of work. It's never just one night._

He sighs. He'll just tell his dad whatever he wants to hear to get him off Max's back and everything will be fine. 

Vision disoriented and movements clumsy and awkward, Max stumbles back into the sunroom and sees Nico and Kevin passed out, Nico's head on Kevin's shoulder and Kevin's arm around Nico's shoulders. He rolls his eyes as best he can.

_Fuckers. I knew it._

He goes back inside and there's still a lot of voices and racket from seemingly everywhere, and Nicola is moaning loudly and Lewis is groaning, a sound that Max gags at hearing. He heads upstairs slowly, hanging onto the handrail, and finds his way to the several bedrooms. It's quieter up here, and he knows better than to disturb the doors that are shut. Even if he didn't the sounds coming from inside clearly let him know what's going on in them.

_Jeez, all I wanna do is crash. If I get laid, whatever. But I'm not crashing with some weirdos having sex in the same room. _He makes a face. 

There's a bedroom on the left at the end of the hall that he can see, even in his drunken mind, must be a guest room. _One of many, the rich bastards._

He stumbles in and shuts the door behind him, hopeful that will ward off anyone else looking for a hookup spot.

He's hot all over, and his vision is worsening a bit, but he feels blissfully empty and disconnected, and he sighs heavily and walks over to the bed. It's already unmade and mussed, but he just tries to straighten out the comforter and decides _since I'm warm anyway I'll just lay on top. Cleaner anyway. _

Hands all heavy and useless, he smooths out the blanket as best he can and falls face first into the bed, head landing on the pillow. He giggles at himself. _I'm so wasted._

A sound startles him, but initially he thinks he imagined it. 

Then a shape pops up from the floor between the bed and the wall. 

Max shrieks and then covers his mouth. "Fuck that was loud. Who's there?"

"It's Charles."

Max collapses back onto the mattress. "Of course it's you, fucking creep. What the fuck are you doing in here?" He slurs.

Charles doesn't answer. Max lolls his too-heavy head over and looks at him.

Charles shrugs.

"Whatever," Max sighs. "Just leave me alone."

"I was going to sleep in here," Charles says, and Max can hear that he's drunk too, even with his very foggy brain.

"Well, I'm here now."

"You can have half the bed, I want the other half," Charles whines, climbing onto the bed. Max is dizzy. 

"Fine, whatever, I don't care," he mumbles, flopping over to one side. "But lock the door so no one comes and sees us together in here."

"What, are you afraid they'll think you're gay?" Charles asks, giggling obnoxiously. But after a moment, Charles turns around and locks the door quickly, coming back to the bed still giggling. He crawls onto the bed and lays down on one of the pillows. "You're afraid they'll see you with the creep." Charles' laugh sounds a little hysterical.

Max sits up, suddenly feeling angry and annoyed. "Shut up."

Charles just laughs again, a little high pitched. 

Max snaps for no real reason then, and he clutches at Charles, grabbing his arm and twisting it into the bed. Charles yowls in pain, and Max pins his other arm as well. "I said, shut up," he repeats, conscious of his words slurring still as he leans over Charles threateningly. 

Charles is still, quivering a little. Max isn't sure if it's fear or cold. Charles feels cold.

"Got it?"

Charles nods quickly, breath coming in short gasps. Max shoves his arms further into the mattress for a second, making Charles suck in a loud breath, and then he releases him.

Suddenly, Charles leans up in the dark and catches him completely off guard, freezing him in place as he roughly puts his lips over Max's. 

Max feels a flood of strange terrifying emotion and pushes away, fleeing to his side of the bed. 

Charles just looks at him and he looks at Charles. Max wants feel like running, he wants to feel something, he wants to do something that would be the right decision, but his brain is far beyond reasonable cognition and he can't think of what to do. His body acts on the vacancy of his mind and when Charles suddenly reaches over and puts a hand on his shoulder, he grabs the hand and pushes Charles back onto the bed. Charles is breathing heavily and inexplicably it makes Max want to do something, he isn't sure what, _what the fuck is happening, I don't know what the hell is wrong with me, I should go home _but he doesn't get up and go home.

Instead, he keeps holding Charles down to the bed and in an instant that he can't explain or retract, his lips lurch forward and he's kissing Charles unkindly, harshly, roughly, and he doesn't know why, and he really doesn't know why Charles doesn't try to fight it. 

_What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck_ his brain is screaming in the background, but Max lets the alcohol drown that voice out and he comes up for air and breathes out deeply before letting himself go back under and kiss Charles again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Alex sings is Outnumbered by Dermot Kennedy and is from the list of songs Alex submitted for Toro Rosso's Garage Playlist on Spotify. 
> 
> Sorry, a little more of a serious chapter, but I hope you enjoyed.  
Reminder that it's all fictional, and I'm also playing the "it's fictional" card and making Alex an only child even though I know he's not. Don't come for me, I know already.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Leave a comment or a suggestion if you'd like.


	5. Chapter 5

True to form, Lando is late the next morning. George and Alex share a look with each other as Lando slides in behind them. Mr. Horner glares at him, but by now he's very used to Lando not arriving on time, so he continues after a moment. 

"So, this formula is the one you should remember from last week, but since I doubt any of you paid enough attention, let me remind you..."

Alex rolls his eyes, and George hides a smile.

Horner is fully into his spiel and has his back turned, going on about the formula. Alex leans back and makes a face at Lando, who sticks out his tongue at him. 

"...And thus, if you do it right, you will come up with the final answer of 348.73. If you get anything else, you are wrong. Questions? I thought so. All right, let's get on with it. We are now on lesson twelve, and this is..."

George fidgets with his notebook, doodling aimlessly. He sneaks a glance over at Alex's paper and Alex has drawn a much better doodle of a rally car going through a turn. It's taking up the whole page of his notebook and George admires it and gives Alex a thumbs up behind his hand. Alex grins. 

"And therefore," Mr. Horner booms loudly, "you will now see that..."

"What's that smell?" Lando suddenly says out loud, and everyone looks at him. George sniffs the air and suddenly he does smell something odd. 

"Fire!" Someone yells from the back of the room, and George and Alex both lurch to their feet. Everyone else is starting to move around. Lando rushes over and leans in between George and Alex to hiss in a loud whisper, "I bet you anything Ocon set the bins on fire again."

Through the window they can see smoke trailing off into the morning sky. It's a thin wisp, and it's coming from behind the building. "You're probably right," Alex agrees, throwing a sideways glance at Lando. "Carlos better not be out there or he's going to get caught too."

"I already told you, Carlos is not a delinquent! He's not a troublemaker like that," Lando insists, looking annoyed. 

"Well, there's cameras out there, so you better hope he's not involved."

"He's not!" Lando hisses even more loudly. 

"Shhh!" George tells him, even though the commotion in the room is easily drowning out the words Lando says. 

"Everyone, calmly go through the hall and out the exit. You should all know the fire protocol! We have drills every few months! Let's go, go, get going!" Horner shouts, corralling the curious students and herding them out the classroom door. The other class doors are opening as well, and everyone files into the hall and down the corridor to the exit, Alex and George sticking together with Lando right behind them. 

The sunshine is bright and the smell of smoke is stronger outside. It's clearly coming from the cafeteria garbage area, and the police and fire department are already there, lights flashing. 

"Come on," George says, pulling Alex with him away from the group and under a tree next to the sidewalk that leads to the front entrance. Lando is nowhere to be seen and George suspects he's gone to find Carlos and prove that he wasn't involved. 

They sit together under the tree silently, saying nothing, and George's mind is running on a hamster wheel like it has been since he woke up this morning, or more accurately, since the night before. _What should I do? Should I say something about yesterday? Should I pretend nothing happened? Does he want to pretend like nothing happened? Should I say something in case he's too scared to? But I'm too scared to say anything either! _

Alex says nothing, staring off at the emergency vehicles blankly. George wonders if he's lost in thought as well. 

"Do you think we'll get to go home?" George asks after a few moments, not sure how else to break the silence but really wanting to. 

Alex just shrugs. 

"I hope so," George adds awkwardly, not at all sure what is wrong with his brain and his mouth at the moment. But before his brain can run away with him again, a sound startles both boys. Alex looks at him, eyebrows raised. George looks about, but there's no one there.

Then there's another sound, this time George pinpoints it. _It's leaves rustling._ He tags Alex's shoulder and points upwards into the tree and together they look up, almost at the same time. 

"Yo," says a voice from above. 

"Hello Charles," Alex says, voice betraying his surprise. "Why are you up there?"

"Because I want to be," Charles says, swinging his legs from a branch above. His black skinny jeans have rips that are clearly for style, but they also have dirt around the knees. 

"Okay," Alex says, rolling his eyes even though only George can see him. 

George huffs. "So, do you want to come down, or...?"

"No," says Charles carelessly. "I'm just going to stay here until they're gone and everyone goes back. If you'd rather not be around the creep, there's always other trees."

He's right, and George only barely notices the self deprecating side of Charles' remarks. 

"Come on," Alex says, standing up and brushing himself off. "I'm sure they'll let us go back soon anyway."

George looks up one last time as they walk away. Charles doesn't move.

They rejoin the group of students milling about and re-entering the school hall and Alex grabs George's arm suddenly and inclines his head, discreetly pointing at someone leaning against the wall. George doesn't really know him, but he knows of him..._Esteban Ocon_. 

"Well, if he's here, he can't have set the fire," George whispers. "He couldn't have gotten into the locked building unless he came in with the rest of us, and how could he have joined the group when everyone was in the field? Wouldn't someone have seen him?"

"I don't know," Alex whispers back. "Maybe he snuck back somehow, but maybe he didn't set the fire. I don't see Sergio anywhere, or Carlos."

"You think it was one of them?"

Alex shrugs. "Could've been. But also, I saw someone yesterday that I haven't seen in a long time."

"Who?" George asked. 

"Romain Grosjean. He must be back from his stint in reform school," Alex says. 

"Fuuuck," George sighs. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't be happy about it," Alex says sheepishly. "I know you two aren't exactly friends..."

"Not exactly friends? He fucking ran over my bicycle last year and ruined it. I was lucky not to get injured, and he thought it was funny! Fuck that guy!"

Alex put a hand on his shoulder and instantly George was calmer. Though his breath had started to ramp up, Alex's gesture soothes it. George fights the urge to lean into Alex, to nudge his arm around his shoulders. 

"It'll be fine," Alex murmurs close to his ear, too quiet for anyone else to hear. "I'll look out for you. He won't bother you this year."

"Thanks," is all George manages to say. Alex gives his shoulder another quick squeeze and leaves it there just a second longer before he turns away. 

When George looks up, Esteban is watching them. He turns quickly and joins Alex as they follow the slowly moving group back to classes. 

******************************

The fire alarm and subsequent exit of all the classrooms gave Max the opportunity he had been looking for all morning. His head was pounding and his body felt numb and heavy as though he was still partially intoxicated even though he was sure it was just a brutal hangover. He hadn't seen Charles all morning and that was the only thing to be thankful for today. 

He was in no mood to see _that fucking creep_ who for some fucking reason he had decided in the alcohol induced haze of last night to kiss and then make out with before falling asleep (or more properly, passing out), later awakening to sunlight streaming into the window and no sign of Charles. 

_If I never see him again, it'll be too soon. _

And yet, even despite the awful throbbing of his head, Max felt an even worse feeling deep inside. He didn't want to think about it, but somehow the pain of his body drained his energy so much that he had no more mental energy left to fight off the constant reminder from some obnoxious piece of his memory that he _enjoyed it. _The feeling was burned into him, and he couldn't un-experience it now. He had gone and done it, alcohol or no, and he couldn't lie to himself about how it felt. 

He still didn't really want to see Charles anytime soon. 

He heads out of the school building with the rest and into the much too bright sun and made an escape as soon as he could, running to duck down between the bushes and the building, breathing heavily and feeling dizzy enough to be at risk of vomiting. Steadying himself against the brick, he let himself breathe deeply and lean his head against the wall, closing his eyes. He didn't want to go back, not now, not like this. 

He hears a thump somewhere nearby and clutches his head as it sent a jolt through his skull. The teachers were distantly shouting that it was time to head back inside, but Max doesn't move. He really doesn't want to go in right now, and frankly, with all the chaos going on, it would probably be a while before anyone notices he's not around. After weighing his options for a few minutes, he decides he won't go, he'll just stay here, and if anyone shows up later wondering where he is, he would just say he didn't hear anyone say it was time to go in. _Yeah, that'll work._

He settles into a sitting position, head resting against the building, eyes closed, and he relaxes, exhales heavily. His eyes snap open a second later, though, because he hears a sound right next to him. 

Immediately he is faced with the very person he did not want to see. Charles pushes his way through the bushes and crouches down next to him, scooting backwards until he's opposite Max. But he doesn't look at him, instead staring at the ground and picking at blades of grass on the ground, poking the loose dirt with a twig. 

Max lolls his head sideways to look at him, but Charles doesn't return the look, still staring at the ground. 

"What are you doing?" Max asks, tone more harsh than he really meant for it to be.

Charles shrugs. 

"How did you know I was here?" 

"I was in the tree," Charles says, as if that explains everything. 

"What?"

"I was in the tree and I saw you go in here," Charles clarifies, his face a little red. "I just...wanted to make sure you were okay."

Max laughs roughly. "And why do you give a shit?"

Charles shrugs. "You were pretty drunk last night."

"So were you," Max retorts, annoyed.

"Mm," Charles says softly. He pokes the dirt with the twig again. 

"It was just the alcohol," Max suddenly finds himself saying defensively. "I was super, super drunk."

"I know," Charles says. 

"I'm not gay."

"Neither am I," Charles says mildly.

"Good, then...good," Max says, stammering a little because he actually has no idea why Charles is being so casual or what he's supposed to be saying right now.

"If you think it's good," Charles says, and for the first time he looks at Max and Max feels an unwelcome shock in his chest. He doesn't know why and he tries to shove it away.

"You should go," Max says, but his head hurts and he can't muster much force.

Charles makes no move. In fact, if anything, he shifts closer to Max. 

Max doesn't say anything. He can't think of anything to say, and as much as he wants to shove Charles and fight with him and yell at him and call him names, he has no energy to do any of it and he's also oddly grateful Charles hasn't been sappy or strange considering everything that's happened. He's also a little chagrined to find that there's another part of him that wants to do none of the above to Charles and instead wants to just sit here with him, maybe even more than that. 

He decides sitting here is okay, and Charles seems to think the same, so they sit and say nothing, Max with his eyes closed and Charles just fidgeting now and again, but not showing any signs of leaving. 

"They've all gone in," Max says at some point. "You should go too."

"Are you going to?" Charles asks. 

Max says nothing. 

"I thought so," Charles says, and he doesn't go anywhere either. 

They sit there in silence, neither talking nor even looking at one another. Max leans his head against the brick and closes his eyes to stop the throbbing and block out the light. Slowly, he realizes he's falling asleep, but before he can wake himself up, it's too late and he's totally out. 

When he wakes, it's after lunchtime. Charles is gone, but as Max sits up, something slides down from around his shoulders. _That's not mine. Oh. That's Charles' black hoodie. _

It had been laid over him like a blanket, and now that it's fallen off, he realizes that the fall air is quite chilly. He gets to his feet and carries the nondescript black hoodie with him as he goes inside. _I'll have to find him and give it back later._

He's not sure what to think about the small act of kindness, but he can't help but feel a little comforted by it. He shakes his head to clear it. _Careful there, Max. Don't get too crazy._

*****************************

When the last period finishes, Lando is out of his seat and running for the door as fast as he can. He heads downstairs, two at a time, and off to his locker. George and Alex are strolling up the hall in the other direction, coming from English, which is their final class, and he waves to them. 

"Hey Lando," George says, coming up next to him and wrestling with the combination lock on his own locker, which is next to Lando's. "Where are you off to?"

Lando eyes him and winks, but his heart is pounding furiously. "The less you know, the better," he says cheerfully, knowing exactly what George will assume. It's not ideal, Lando knows that, but he figures that for now, it's a cover. George just frowns a little. Alex comes up behind them, carrying his stuff already. 

"Did you forget your combination there, George?" He teases.

George realizes he's been turning the lock around and around aimlessly and colors. "Ha, no, I got distracted talking to our dear friend here."

Lando winks at Alex. Alex nudges him. "So, Lando, got plans for tonight?"

For an instant, Lando freezes, afraid that _maybe Alex knows_, but Alex is clearly being normal and friendly, so he smiles brightly. "Nah, nothing major."

"Lando here apparently thinks that the less we know, the better," says George pointedly, having finally opened his locker. He rummages around inside while Alex shoots a meaningful glance at Lando. 

"Lando, don't you think..." Alex begins.

Lando has heard enough, and he knows what's coming, and _jesus christ he's not a pothead, but this is the only diversion that makes sense. _"Who are you, the new D.A.R.E rep?" He asks Alex. It's meant to be a joke, but as he says it, it comes off more harsh than he intended. Inwardly, Lando cringes and slaps himself. 

Alex looks hurt and confused. George pulls his head out of his locker and looks at Lando, frowning more heavily. 

"Sorry," Lando says quickly, and he means it. "Sorry, okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's not like that, it's just..." But there's no way to explain, and as he glances at his watch, Lando realizes he has to get moving. "Sorry, Alex. See you guys later, okay? I gotta go." 

And he bolts off, dashing down the last flight of stairs to the ground floor and running for the exit on the far side of the long hallway. He doesn't look back because he already feels terrible about reacting so strongly to Alex. _They're just concerned, of course, and they think you're smoking a ton of pot, man, of course they're worried, they're your friends..._but he doesn't finish the thought, because he plows through the exit doors and outside, and he can see a dull gray Volkswagen Golf pulling up to the far curb. He looks around quickly. _No one looking, no one looking. All clear. _ When he's sure no one is paying any attention to him, he dashes down the sidewalk, opens the passenger door of the gray Golf, and shuts it behind him. 

Before he's even settled or buckled, the car is heading away from the school quickly, turning south, heading down side streets. Lando fastens his seatbelt and grins at the driver, who winks at him.

They say nothing as they continue on out of the small town proper and off to the picnic grounds next to the lake, pulling up into the empty parking lot of Woodland Lake Park. There's never anyone here at this time of day, right after school, in the early afternoon, while the sun is still warm, and it's surrounded by trees. 

The car stops, the engine shuts off, and then they're kissing, safe from the prying eyes that are everywhere at school. Carlos puts a hand on the back of Lando's head, looping his fingers through the curls, and Lando sighs like he always does. He can feel Carlos smiling a little against his lips, but they don't break off the kisses for a few more moments. When they come up for air, Lando smiles broadly and Carlos smiles back, his eyes bright and dancing. 

"It's like a getaway!" He says, and Lando giggles euphorically, leaning over to lightly kiss Carlos' stubbly cheek. 

"I like it, it's like a bank robbery!" Lando exclaims.

Carlos closes his eyes and kisses him again, grinning all the while. "It's a kidnapping," he says when they part. "I'm kidnapping you!"

"Well, you can kidnap me anytime, I don't care. I wish you'd do it during school hours so I wouldn't have to sit through all that fucking shit," Lando declares.

Carlos snorts. "Well, maybe someday we can play hooky and hang out here all day instead."

"Sounds nice," Lando says, and he rests his head on Carlos' shoulder, leaning over the car console that separates them. Carlos puts an arm around him and squeezes. 

They say nothing for a moment, just sitting there, enjoying being together. 

Lando breaks the silence, remembering earlier. "I think George and Alex are getting worried now...now that we're hanging out more and I've just been telling them...what we talked about."

"They think you are being a stoner?"

"I guess," Lando says, pensive. "I know they worry, they're my friends, but I don't want..." He glanced quickly at Carlos, letting the sentence dangle.

Carlos sighs, petting Lando's hair and staring out the front windshield of the car. It's not like it's weird that he's a junior and Lando is a freshman, not in terms of age, but Lando knows what people think of Carlos, and he also knows his parents might not be very thrilled to find out that they were hanging out. 

They knew Lando was gay, that wasn't the problem, the problem was Carlos, and Carlos knew it. 

But Lando also knows it's not just him who worries about what could happen if people found out. He reminds himself again that _Carlos isn't out, and his family would not be pleased_. 

Which leads to another thought. _I'm lucky my parents support me._ "I wish..." He starts to say out loud, and then drops off. Carlos squeezes his shoulder again. 

"It's okay. I'm sorry George and Alex are getting concerned. What do...do you think you have to..." 

Lando knows what he's asking, and he knows he doesn't want to risk it. "I think they'd keep the secret," he tells Carlos slowly, "But...I know you'd rather I didn't. So I'm going to keep it quiet for as long as I can. But if they start threatening to get someone involved for my drug addiction..."

"Yeah, you'll have to tell them," Carlos agrees. "If they think you're turning into a little pothead." He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously and pokes Lando in the ribs, which tickles. 

Lando elbows him, but Carlos traps him in his arms and tickles him until he's gasping and begging and laughing too hard to stop. 

Then they go back to making out, eyes closed, hands in hair and shirts. 

_Fuck, I wish we had more time. And space. And a bed. _"Fuck," he whispers involuntarily as Carlos pulls a little on his hair.

Carlos pulls back and looks at him, breathing heavily. "You're so hot," he murmurs, and Lando feels like he might suffocate on the spot. Carlos is looking at him hungrily.

"I wish," Lando starts to say, and stops himself, heart pounding wildly, afraid he'll go too far. They haven't been together long, _or are we even together? We've never discussed that. _

"What do you wish?" Carlos asks softly, lifting Lando's head up just a fraction and gazing at him. "Go on," he whispers, lips against Lando's, but just barely touching. 

"I wish we could...go someplace. You know, like...private. A private room," Lando stammers, certain that his heart will stop any moment.

Carlos smiles, pressing a kiss to his lips again and again before pulling away and looking at him again with _those big brown eyes, fuck, those eyes are going to kills me someday. _"I'd like that," he murmurs, and Lando shivers. "How about Friday night? There is going to be a big party at Nicola's again."

"Nicola hates me," Lando says, and he feels stupid immediately for saying it, but Carlos laughs. 

"She won't know you're there," he promises, winking at Lando. "They never know who comes to their stupid houses and their stupid parties." Lando giggles. Carlos looks intently at him. "So, would you like to go?"

"Yes," Lando whispers, feeling his body surge at the thought of being alone in a bedroom with Carlos.

Carlos kisses him even more aggressively. "Good. I am wanting that too." He runs his eyes over Lando in a way that makes Lando feel dirty, but also kicks his heart rate up another notch, if it were possible. "I'll take you there. Do you want to tell your mom you'll crash with George or Alex?"

Lando nods, already planning it out in his head. 

"Good," Carlos whispers, and all this talk is making Lando's pants a little tight. He shifts so Carlos can't see, _jeez, you're not a prude, and you're going to spend the fucking night with him in a few days, what's your problem. _But he still feels awkward about it, so he is careful not to let Carlos know.

When he gets home, does the homework that he's going to bother with, and logs online, neither George or Alex come online to join him. He contemplates texting them, but after a minute, he decides he won't. He doesn't want to explain anything about earlier anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Carlos' first car really was a gray VW Golf. Details, even though it's all freaking fictional.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter! Thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

After classes, Max walks through the halls for a bit. He's looking for Charles, but he can barely bring himself to admit that, and he certainly won't admit it to anyone else. The black hoodie Charles loaned him slung over one arm, he climbs down the stairs all the way to the main level and even to the lower level, but he sees no sign of the slight figure in black. _Did he fucking leave? Weirdo._

Failing in his (not)mission, he goes back up and throws his notebooks in the locker. He never keeps anything in his locker if he can help it except study notes, but he contemplates throwing the hoodie in there too. He decides against it though, because_ it's just a black hoodie, no logos, no nothing, it could be anyone's, and for all anyone knows, it's mine. _ Besides, he has to get to practice before too long. He doesn't have time to go running around looking for _Charles the creep. _

He feels an unfamiliar guilty twinge at the moniker.

He's sure he is losing his mind.

Practice is dull, and he's hot, and it's hot, and he's forgotten about earlier and about Charles and he really doesn't feel hungover anymore by the time he walks back to shower. Alex is heading down from the soccer field at the same time, and they fall in step like usual, but Alex is oddly quiet and not as cheerful as he normally is. Max barely pays attention though, because he's not feeling chatty today either and his recent experiences are finding their way back into his mind now that he's no longer physically straining himself to forget. 

The locker room is crowded, and Max just goes through the motions, barely even looking at anyone or talking. His phone buzzes as he's leaving the gym building, and he glances at it. It's a text from Lando. 

**Hey, you busy tonight? I'm bored.**

Max rolls his eyes to himself, but he feels some relief. The last thing he needs is to fall into his mopey weirdness tonight. **What do you want to do?**

**Video Games?**

Max considers, but he decides that's as good as anything else right now. **Sure. Your place?**

**Yeah.**

_Good, now I don't have to be home either. _ **Ok, when?**

**Homie, I'm here all night, dawg. You come when you wanna.**

And Max actually laughs, because Lando trying to be gangsta is probably the most ridiculous thing he's witnessed lately, despite everything. **Careful with the bong, snoop, **he text back. 

Lando's reply only consists of middle finger emojis.

Max snorts and swings onto his moped, heading off out of the parking lot. He considers heading home first, decides to just go straight to Lando's, and then, without warning, he finds himself crossing the road he uses to get to the street where Charles lives. 

He's just noticed where he is when he notices something else. A thin figure in black is walking up the sidewalk, arms wrapped tightly around his body, shivering a little. It's not very cold, but there's a stiff breeze and it's definitely becoming chilly. Max has his windbreaker on, but when he flips his helmet visor up to look and make sure it's Charles coming, a cool wind smacks him in the face. 

"Charles!" He finds himself calling, pulling up alongside the curb of the cross street. 

Charles looks up and waves, almost like a flap of his hand, and then he wraps his arms around himself again. Max props up his moped on the kickstand and looks into his bag, finding Charles' hoodie, and he waits as Charles comes down the sidewalk and approaches him. 

"Hey," he says when Charles is close enough to not yell. "I, uh, have your hoodie."

Charles looks at him and smiles a little. "Thanks." He takes it and pulls it over his head, leaving the hood up like he always does. _He looks more like himself now, _Max thinks. 

"Thanks for...loaning it to me," Max replies carefully. Charles just nods. Max licks his lips. "Uh. Are you walking home?"

Charles shrugs. "I couldn't get a ride today. Daniel is on vacation."

Max just nods, and then he says awkwardly, "Well, do you...want a ride?"

Charles looks at him. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind. You could've asked at school you know."

Charles shrugged again. "I got the impression you weren't too happy with me."

Max exhales deeply before he replies. "Uhhh, nah, just the hangover." _Well, and the fact that we fucking kissed, but I'm not talking about that._

"Mmm," is all Charles says, and Max realizes he's picked up the duffel bag from the second seat and put it over his shoulders. 

"Yeah, okay," he says pointlessly, and they get on. Charles' hands are so cold that Max can feel them through his shirt and his jacket, but he says nothing. They ride in silence like normal.

When they arrive, Charles hops off quickly. "Thank you," he says, and again he puts Max's duffel bag over his shoulders gently before he turns away.

"Hey Charles," Max blurts out without thinking. Charles turns. "Well, since...since Daniel's out of town, if you need a ride, I can give you one."

Charles' lips twitch. "Thank you, Max."

_He's kind of cute. _

With that thought taking him completely off guard, Max just nods dumbly in response and waves briefly to Charles before he goes inside. 

When he's gone, Max gasps out breath like his lungs are giving way. He tries to rewind his thoughts, but it can't be done. _He's kind of cute _echoes through Max's brain like a death sentence. 

It's several moments before he pulls himself together enough to continue on to Lando's house.

**********************

George shows back up at school around the time sports practices start because the first cycling club meet is coming up and there's a meeting to discuss the details. He's already bored when he walks in, and he grabs the slip of paper with the information on it. Slowly, he finds a seat in the back of the room and stares straight ahead because honestly he knows all this information already and he doesn't care to hear it again, but he also knows he has to be here or suffer the wrath of the track coach, Toto. 

Last year, Toto smacked the coaches' table so hard during one bad meet that it buckled and broke and had to be replaced. The real kicker was that it wasn't even the first time he'd done that, despite the school administration asking him to _please stop smashing their property, please set a good example for the youth, please don't take out your anger so aggressively. _Toto clearly did not care, because he was known school-wide now as "That Table Smashing Guy" or "Toto the Table Breaker" and George guessed he was a little proud of his infamy. 

Toto was not, however, in a table banging mood tonight, so he just drones on about rules and regulations and times and schedule and George stares at the front wall as if he could see through it until finally, finally, Toto finished talking.

As soon as he says, "I believe that's all," George leaves the room. He is tired and he does not want to hear the stupid questions from the stupid people who had not heard all this as many times as he had. So he heads down the hall towards the exit at a brisk pace and let himself out into the sunlight.

His car is parked way out in the far side of the parking lot because he was hoping to get to watch Alex practice, but as he approaches, he can see that practice had already wound up for the day and Alex is no longer in the field. Toto must've talked longer than he thought. 

George takes out his keys and makes his way around the car towards the driver's side, sighing and looking down at the pavement. 

When he looks up again, he screams a small, short scream. 

"Well, hi, Georgie, good to see you too," says the person leaning against his car. _Romain! What the fuck. _George's mind starts racing. He takes a step back, looking around wildly, but there's no one. A door slams behind him, but he feels too scared to look and see who it was.

"Hi," he stammers, heart racing. "Uh, yeah, hello."

"You don't seem happy to see me. Why is that?" Romain asks sweetly, stroking the stubble of a beard he is evidently trying to grow. _It doesn't seem to be working out for him._

"Well, you did ruin my racing bike," George fires back, still nervous, but more annoyed now. "And you are kind of dick."

"That's a mean word," Romain says solemnly, pressing his lips together like a fucking puritan. "Besides, Georgie, you're the slowest cyclist on the school team anyway. What did you care?"

"I was, and now I'm not. You know, it's been a while since you were around," George says shortly, trying to be bold. "Now can I please get to my car?"

Romain rolls his eyes. "I dunno man. You've been talking shit about me. And you know the old saying, right?"

George is actually afraid now, looking about, getting jumpy. He tries to push past Romain, but Romain won't budge.

"Talk shit, get hit," Romain announces, putting emphasis on the last word and eyeing George.

Wildly, George looks around for someone, anyone, and that's when he spies the person he wants most in the world to see. Alex is walking out, head down, sports bag dangling from his shoulder. Romain doesn't seem to notice. 

"Alex!" George yells, and he's surprised at how loud his voice is. "Alex!"

Alex looks up, looks around, and sees him. Frantically, George waves at him to come over, but he thinks Alex doesn't understand and is waving goodbye.

"Looks like he's headed home, bro," says Romain. 

George takes a deep breath and steels himself to face off with Romain in what he feels is a ridiculous confrontation about nothing. _Jesus, yes, I'm pissed that he ruined my bike, and yes, it really wasn't great being terrorized into not telling anyone for a month, but seriously? _

"Look," George reasons, "You've been gone because of...you know, and I don't care about what happened before. I'm not talking shit, okay? Let's just forget about it, cool?" He holds up a questioning thumbs-up, but Romain clearly isn't keen on it. 

"Yeah, I've been gone for a month because of _you_, fucker," he says, staring George down. "You just had to tell Toto about my little spat with Marcus and throw the part about the bike in there too."

George is actually confused even more now. "I didn't tell Toto about you and Marcus. Not that I wouldn't have, I just didn't know."

"Liar. You walked by the room! You saw!"

"You think...I saw you beating Marcus?"

"I didn't beat him, I defended myself."

This was getting wilder and wilder and also out of hand. George is not at all in the mood to deal with a maniac today, particular not this maniac. "I did not see-"

"Hey George, I thought you were coming over. What's up over here?" Alex says from behind George, and Romain looks uncomfortable. 

"Alex!" George exclaims, somewhat in surprise, but mostly in relief. _I could just kiss you. _

Alex winks at him. "Hey Romain, I think George was planning to come over today. Maybe you can hang out some other time, huh?" He's sickly sweet, obviously mocking, and Romain shoots him a glare. 

"Fuck you, snitch," he says to George, and he shoves George's shoulder just a bit as he walks past them and away through the parking lot. 

George gasps out a breath. Alex is looking at him and George's mind is running away from him, _fuck, how are you so perfect, thank goodness you came by, _"Thanks for saving me, Prince Charming."

_Fuck, fuck. That was not supposed to be out loud. _

It comes out a little awkwardly, but Alex laughs and the joke passes unchallenged. "Anything for you, princess," Alex says in falsetto, and George groans. "Or Prince, I suppose," Alex amends. "Or, maybe damsel in distress?"

George is certainly in distress, but not only from Romain. _Jesus fuck, and he just showered and everything. This is not okay. Okay, shut up, brain. Shut up, George. _He grins outwardly and pokes Alex. "Seriously? Do I look like a fairy princess to you?"

Alex looked at him far too seriously and shook his head firmly. "Nope, not at all." And a smile crept over his face as he added sneakily, "But you still needed rescuing!" 

George groans again.

"Okay, fine," Alex concedes. "Are you okay, though? For real." And his eyes find George's and he puts a hand on George's shoulder. 

George has to take another deep breath and _seriously no, this is not the time to go in for a fucking kiss! _"Yeah, I'm fine," he says. 

Alex looks unconvinced. "What the fuck was he on about? I should kick his ass."

George looks at him abruptly, because he sounds legitimately angry. Alex is frowning hard. "He thinks I'm the one who reported him for the so-called fight with Marcus."

"That was not a fight, it was a fucking beating. He slammed his head into a table for fuck's sake," Alex says grimly. "And also, no, of course you didn't do it. You weren't even there."

"No, I told him that, but he didn't believe me."

"Well, he's a fucking loser. He should've been expelled."

George makes a face. "I know, but you know how that goes around here."

Alex just shakes his head, frustration on his face. Then he looks back at George. "Hey, did you wanna come over though?"

"Yeah, of course," says George, because duh, yes. _Always_. 

"Okay. See you there," Alex says, and George just nods. Alex waves and jogs down towards his car, while George gets into his vehicle and sighs, resting his head on the steering wheel briefly. 

_Well that was fucking terrifying. _

_And also...well, interesting. _He finds himself oddly comforted and satisfied with Alex's protective response. _Yeah, calm down. He's just a friend._

_**********************_

They watch a movie later, after dinner, lounging on Alex's bed. George hadn't wanted to play video games and Alex wasn't really in the mood either, so they picked something and put it on. Alex checks his phone, and it's early still. 

They don't speak much, just munching some popcorn Alex made and halfway watching the movie. Or at least, Alex is only halfway watching. The other half of him is thinking about everything, and about earlier, and he's somewhere between plotting revenge on Romain and subtly eyeing George when suddenly George turns to him and their eyes meet. 

George's eyes are a little large and he looks concerned. "Um, Alex?" He says cautiously.

Heart pounding a little, _why are you nervous you idiot, _Alex answers. "Yeah?"

"Um. Earlier, when I told you about how Romain thought I snitched on him?" 

Alex nods.

"So, um, then you said of course I didn't, and that I wasn't even there. And then, you said Romain banged Marcus' head on a table."

_Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. _Alex knows where this is going and he is not at all okay with it but it's too late now. _Oh shit._

George eyes him and continues after a pause. "Alex...no one ever mentioned that before. Not that I ever heard about. Alex, I just want to know."

Alex turns to him, dread sinking through him. 

George sits up and faces him dead on, puts his hands on Alex's shoulders, and the gesture is comforting, even though the next few words are not. "Just tell me, I'm your best friend. Was it you? Did you report him to Toto?"

Alex looks away and George swears under his breath and releases his shoulders. When Alex looks back at him, George's eyes are still huge. "Listen," Alex begins, "I saw what happened. It was...fucked up. I had to tell someone. I made them promise to keep me anonymous and they did. I'm surprised actually that no one knew until now."

George takes a deep breath. "Well, he thinks it was me, but there's no way in hell I'm telling him who it really was."

Alex watches him intently, resisting the intense desire to pull him in for a hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to..."

"...Worry," George finishes, grinning lightly. "I know."

Alex laughs. "Yeah...worry. It's fine. We'll stick together at school, like we already do, and Romain will probably end up back in jail or expelled before we know it." He tries to be cheerful and upbeat.

George glances at him. "You think?"

"Yeah, trust me, he won't find out. Toto and you are the only two who know now. Besides, we'll just be careful."

"Do you think we should tell anyone?" 

Alex considers, but shakes his head. "I don't think there's anyone who could help anyway."

"Mm," George agrees quietly. 

"It'll blow over," Alex says, much more confident in tone than he is inside. _Fuck, now George is the target for this crazy person AND he's worried about me. Fucking terrific. And...also adorable. George is an adorable worrier. _It makes him feel warm, knowing that George is so concerned about him, but he doesn't want to put too much on him either.

George slouches back and turns back to the movie, but when Alex glances at him later, he finds George's eyes already on him and he hopes it's too dark to hide the color on his face.

Alex feels very alone when George leaves. 

George doesn't want to leave, and he worries about Alex all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they're in trouble now!
> 
> Lol, I don't hate Romain, and I don't see him as a big bad guy, but for the sake of this fic, I'm going with it anyway. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for following this train-wreck. All aboard for the next disaster of a station, I guess?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight homophobia in this chapter, just fyi.

George does not sleep well. He has long and convoluted dreams, all of which involve Alex and Romain, and every time he goes back to sleep, he goes back to dreaming.

First, Alex and Romain team up together and shut him in the cleaning closet at school. He tries to get out, and it's locked, so he bangs on the door and yells for help and wakes up in the middle of yelling (thankfully not out loud.)

He sighs and lies down again, turning over a few times, but he falls asleep again quickly, only to be met by more dreams. This time, he kisses Alex and Alex runs away screaming at him, leaving him in the hallway at school. When he starts to walk away, Alex reappears with Romain and together they chase George all over the school grounds until finally he wakes up, sweating.

It takes a while to calm down and get comfortable again after that one. He looks at the clock, and it's 2am. _Fucking great._ He counts sheep, and bicycles, and everything else he can think of, and finally he does sleep again. 

This time, he dreams that he's kissing Alex and Alex is kissing him back and it feels amazing. He's lost in it and he never wants it to end, but suddenly, Alex is pulled away from him and Romain appears, laughing like The Joker, and Alex begs George to help him as Romain drags him away, but George can't move his feet. He watches in horror as Romain slams Alex's face over and over into the lockers and then drops him to the floor and walks away, still laughing. 

Just as George gets his feet to work and starts to run to help, his alarm goes off and he's awake again.

He slams his hand on it to shut it up. 

Already he can tell that this is going to be a shit day.

******************

Alex waits for George where they always meet and when he arrives, it's obvious his friend is sleep deprived. George doesn't say hello or anything, yawning heavily instead, and they walk in silence down the hall. Alex notices that George keeps rubbing his eyes like he's trying to stay awake.

"What, did you stay up too late playing video games?" He jokes, trying to get a reaction.

George just frowns and says shortly, "No." 

Sensing that George is in no mood to talk, Alex just walks alongside him quietly as they enter Horner's classroom. 

It's not until almost lunchtime that George appears to shake himself out of whatever gloomy mood he's been in all morning and perk up a bit. Alex is a bit jealous though because it's Lando who finally cracks George even though _I'm his best friend, I've known him longest, I ought to be making him smile. _

But also, Lando is so ridiculous sometimes that no one can help smiling around him, and George gives in during English when Daniel, (who shouldn't even be in the class, but got held back a year) makes some comment to Lando and Lando responds by burying his face in his arms on his desk and laughing hysterically until he cries and everyone looks at him and Ms Williams is forced to pause the lesson until he can control himself.

"What did he say?" Alex hisses at Lando when he's calmer, and that turns out to be a mistake because it sends Lando into another fit of hysterics and he's sent out of the room to calm down.

Alex looks at George, eyebrows raised, and George just shrugs, but there's a smile playing around his lips now. Alex rolls his eyes and George smirks and shakes his head. 

Daniel makes an innocent expression when Ms Williams asks him what is going on, and just as innocently he says, "I don't know, I just asked him for a pencil."

And no one believes that, but there's nothing anyone can do, so Ms Williams sighs loudly and orders everyone to go back to the assignment requirements and stop "monkeying about."

When she turns her back, Daniel mimes at being a monkey, scratching his sides and pretending to peel an invisible banana, and there are snickers from a few people, but Ms Williams doesn't turn around fast enough to catch anyone. 

Lando returns just before class is over, composing himself with difficulty, and Daniel graciously avoids making any more unsolicited remarks for the short remainder of the class.

When class lets out, though, Daniel pokes Lando in the ribs and whispers something in his ear that disintegrates all trace of dignity Lando might have had and George and Alex have to partially drag him out and into the hallway so they can get to their last class of the morning before they're late.

World History mostly seems like a class calculated to put everyone to sleep. Most of this, Alex thinks, isn't actually due to the subject matter, and more to do with the teacher, Mr. Binotto. Today, just like always, he drones on and on, stopping only to push his perfectly round glasses up his nose again, and by the time the lecture is halfway finished, Alex is already feeling drowsy.

Beside him, George has his elbow on the desk and his face in his palm, seeming to be looking down at his notes, but Alex can see that his eyes are closed and he's clearly asleep. 

Thankfully, no one particularly cares and Mr. Binotto doesn't notice. He's too busy going over plans A, B, and C for how assignments can be completed.

"And failing these," he drones on, "You can always choose plans D, E, F, or G, which are as follows..." 

And Alex stops listening again. He stares out the window and watches leaves blow off the trees, but he's barely even noticing that either. He's thinking. After what happened yesterday, he's been trying to come up with a plan to make sure George won't be alone anywhere outside in case Romain shows up again, but it's difficult because Alex himself has Soccer practice after school and George will have running to do for track and cycling to do as well. 

_I can at least walk him out to his car, and I can go running with him after practice, and in between I doubt Romain will find him while he does his bike rides. The main thing is to make sure he's good when he's here, I think. Right? That's the big thing. And he can come over, of course, and in the morning we always meet up, and maybe sometimes I can have him sleep over too so we can go in together just to be sure._

_And also for other reasons, _his brain insists. _You like the idea of sleeping next to him. Always have._

_Yeah okay, but this isn't about that. George is my friend and I care about him._

He almost groans at himself for that one. Yeah, suuuuure. _He's your friend and you looooove him. _

Sometimes, Alex's brain is like an annoying five-year-old. 

He finally silences the nagging thoughts and lays down the law. _Okay, fuck off with all the rest of the bullshit, the only thing that matters is that I got him into this mess when I told Toto about Romain and I've got to makes sure he's fine until it's fixed. That's all._

The argument with his mind might have continued, but thankfully the bell rang and George woke up and they were free to go in search of food.

**********************

"Ay, Max! Sit with us, man," Lewis calls, and Max groans inwardly, unable to pretend he hasn't heard. Slowly, he walks towards the table in the corner of the room, carrying his hot food he just arrived back from buying, and Seb scoots over to make room for him.

"Hey Maxy," Nicola purrs, practically sitting on Lewis' lap. She's dressed in a pink halter top and a denim miniskirt that Max swears could probably not exist at all and the difference would be negligible. Lewis can't take his hands off her, as usual.

"Sup, man?" Seb says, elbows on the table as he munches on a large burrito. 

"Not much," Max says, settling himself on the bench beside Sebastian and opening his lunch. He takes a bite of his burger, wanting to get out of here but fighting the instinct for the moment. He's never really felt comfortable in the "in-crowd", especially because he's younger than all of them, but it's the group his father wants him to be a part of and the group that everyone seems to think he'll fit into, even if he never really does.

"Dude, sick throw in practice yesterday," Lewis says, giving him a thumbs up. "You do that at the game on Friday and we'll be set."

"Hopefully," Max says, taking another bite of food.

"Come on, you know you're the best quarterback we've ever had," Valtteri says without a trace of irony. He stuffs a large piece of chicken in his mouth. 

Max shrugs, mouth still full and feeling awkward about the situation as usual.

Daniel appears beside Valtteri. "Move over," he says, and Val does. "Hey Max," he adds, sliding into the space. "You gonna bring us the championship this year, or what?"

Daniel isn't like the rest of them, Max is truly his friend and Daniel is a very weird sort who never seems to have just one social group and moves through the ins and outs of high school politics like he's a chameleon. But even so, Max isn't in the mood to really chat much. "I'll try my best," is all he says while he continues trying to finish his food.

Just then, Jean-Eric passes by and Daniel jumps up so fast he accidentally bumps ketchup onto Valtteri's sleeve, but he doesn't notice as he runs off to catch up with the other man, yelling out loudly, "JEV! HEY JEV!"

Valtteri wordlessly wipes the ketchup off his school hoodie and calmly continues eating.

Lewis shakes his head. "Fucking Daniel, always something with him." Nicola laughs and plays with Lewis' dreadlocks. He buries his face in her boobs. 

Max looks away. 

"Not while I'm eating," Seb says reproachfully, and Lewis and Nicola laugh, but Lewis does sit up, just in time to see someone passing by behind Max.

"Hey creep," Lewis says mockingly. "Hey, Halloween isn't until next month! Did you forget?"

His stomach sinking, Max turns to see who Lewis is yelling at, and just as he feared, Charles is passing through the lunchroom, hoodie around his face. He doesn't look at Lewis.

Someone from one of the other tables sticks out their leg and Charles trips, but he regains his balance, not even looking at the perpetrator. 

"Hey, I heard you paint your fingernails, fag!" Nicola yells, and then she giggles. Seb and Valtteri look uncomfortable, and Max stares down at his plate before slowly turning around to see Charles lift his head and give Nicola the middle finger, complete with black fingernail polish.

Then Charles passes out of the room and the murmur of voices and chuckles and conversation continues. Max forces himself to eat the last bite of his food before he stands up. "See you later, guys, I gotta take care of some shit," he says as casually as he can, and he throws out his trash on the way out the door, the same door Charles had exited through a few moments before.

In the hallway, Max looks about and over the heads of the students milling about, but he doesn't see the familiar black hoodie or anyone lurking anywhere that he thinks Charles might lurk.

It's not as though he feels like he should have said something, it's not that he feels he should check on Charles, no, he's not sure what it is. _Well, it's not like I feel that way about him, I don't care if he paints his nails or whatever, I'd rather he didn't think I was like the rest of them because I'm not. I'm not like them._

Max passes through the hall to the lockers, where he picks up what he needs for his next class, and then he glances at his watch and realizes he still has a lot of time left, so he wanders outside into the fall air, telling himself he's not looking for Charles, but still knowing somewhere in the back of his head that he _definitely is_. 

But he doesn't find Charles as he circles the school grounds, and there's no sign of him anywhere about. Max is about to go inside when he remembers what Charles said when they were sitting next to the wall and Max was hungover. 

_Something about sitting in a tree? Climbing a tree? Something with trees? _

Max has to admit that his brain isn't particularly clear on that conversation, given how bad his head hurt, but he vaguely remembers something, so he walks the sidewalk around the school again, looking up at the trees.

But he sees nothing, and the bell rings for classes to resume, so he goes inside feeling frustrated for reasons he's not entirely sure he can name.

**************

Alex walks George out to his car. "I'm sure it's not a big deal," he says awkwardly as they leave the building, not sure what to say really.

George looks at him. "I appreciate it though."

He gives George a grin, and they walk out to the far side of the parking lot where George parked. 

"Why didn't you park closer?" Alex nags him, elbowing him lightly.

George rolls his eyes. "You saw how late I came in this morning! There were no other spots."

"Oh, that's right, you stayed up late or something," Alex teased, wiggling his finger in a scolding gesture. "Naughty boy." _Fuck, that sounded...wrong. Also hot, but wrong._

George facepalms, but he laughs too. "Seriously? It's not that, I couldn't sleep."

"Oh," Alex says. 

"I had...a lot of weird dreams for some reason," George says, and Alex isn't sure why he suddenly sounds a bit uncomfortable. 

"Well," Alex says lightly, trying to be silly, "You could always stay over at my house. You know my folks aren't ever home at night and I'm sure my house is more relaxing anyway because my house is always better."

"Fuck off," George says, and Alex dodges as George tries to hit him with his lanyard. "But okay, yeah, I'll ask my mom, but I'm sure it's cool if I come over."

"Cool," Alex says, mouth suddenly feeling strangely dry. They reach George's car right then, thankfully. "I'll see you later then, yeah?"

"Yup, I'll text you," George replies, unlocking his car. Alex waves at him and heads back down towards the gym building, but he watches George all the way through the parking lot until he turns onto the street and is out of sight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I KNOW, Slow Burn is the fucking worst and even I hate it, so I promise to have some of these dorks figure their shit out sooner rather than later. Thanks for sticking with this mess.


	8. Chapter 8

Alex checks his phone first thing after practice to find a text from George confirming that he would be coming over later. 

**ok, practice just ended. I'll be home in 30 min. **He texts back. 

George answers almost immediately with a simple **ok.**

Alex heads into the locker rooms, walking in right behind Max. 

"Hey Alex."

"Hey," Alex replies, kicking off his cleats. "What's up?"

"Ah you know. Nothing much," Max groans, stripping off his football gear and cracking his neck. "Same old, same old. Want to come and play FIFA with me and Lando?"

"I would, but I got shit to do," Alex lies. "Sometime soon."

"Cool, cause Lando sucks and I need some actual competition."

Alex laughs. "I'm not very good either."

"Come on, you actually play soccer and you can't play FIFA? What's the problem, man?" Max whines at him. 

Rolling his eyes, Alex strips off his shirt and walks over to the showers. "I'm better at Fortnite," he calls back to Max as he heads into the shower. 

"FORTNITE IS FOR SUCKERS!" Max yells, and someone throws something at him. "Hey, it's true," Alex can hear him arguing. 

"You're a sucker," someone shouts, and suddenly Alex shivers despite the (relative) warm water. _Is that Romain? Why is he in here? He doesn't play any sports. _Risking it, he peeks out of the shower curtain with just one eye to see who is talking. But it's not Romain, it's Jean-Eric, and Max throws a wet washcloth at Jev's face. Jean-Eric dodges quickly and it lands on the floor just as Alex hears the locker room door open and everyone instantly stop fooling around. He goes back to showering and hears Mr. Steiner's voice booming in the locker room.

"Enough is enough! Get moving and go home!" Guenther commands, and there's the sound of people hurrying to comply. Alex is thankful he's in the shower at this moment, but he also wonders if he's getting a bit paranoid thinking he heard Romain talking earlier. 

_I'm getting entirely too jumpy. George is the one who has more of a right to be jumpy, why am I freaking out?_ He never really stopped thinking of George, but now he starts up again, knowing that when he gets home George will be coming over almost immediately. That shouldn't make him feel odd, but he does. He's not sure if it's anxiety, nerves, or just the weird thing that happened last time George came over. 

_He definitely had a hard on. I wonder if he saw me covering mine up? Fuck._

Alex shakes himself free of the thoughts, rinses off, and jumps out of the shower to get dressed and go home. 

******************

Lando is loitering about the parking lot near the trash bins, waiting for Carlos. Normally, he'd have bolted straight out of school and jumped into Carlos' car, of course, but today he'd had to stay and work on a group project (_fucking group projects, such a joke) _and Carlos had told him to wait around back afterwards and text him and he would pick him up.

Checking his phone again, Lando sighs when he sees that Carlos still hasn't read his text. He feels worried that he might be about to get stood up. _Oh, shush, Carlos wouldn't, _says another part of his brain, and he knows that part is right, but he's still nervous. He looks down again, though, and Carlos is typing. 

Finally, the text appears. **on my way, babe.**

Lando replies with heart emojis, which he feels weird about because _we've never said I love you yet, _but he sends it anyway and then he looks around aimlessly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees something and twists around to get a better look. At first, he thinks it's just more of the sporting teams heading home, but then he recognizes the bike (_or moped? whatever it's called, it's Max's_) and he's driving off with someone else on the back. Squinting against the afternoon sun, Lando tries to see who it is, even though he feels just a little nosy for doing it. _But hey, they're in plain sight and it's not private, so who cares. _The figure is dressed in black, and Lando realizes he can only think of one person who wears black every day all the time and that's Charles. _Well, that's weird. Didn't know they knew each other. _He shrugs and looks around, spying Carlos' gray car pulling into the lot. He shrinks back around the corner of the building until Carlos pulls up, and then he jumps in like he always does. Carlos grins at him and they speed a little more quickly than necessarily out of the school lot. 

"How was your day?" Carlos asks Lando as they drive. He reaches for Lando's hand, too, which makes Lando blush, but he secretly likes it. 

"Stupid group projects," Lando mumbles, and Carlos makes a sympathetic face. "It was long. How was yours?"

Carlos shrugs. "Same as always. I didn't see you, even at lunch." They don't have any classes together, since they're in such different years, but usually they try to sneak out and meet up somewhere during lunch.

"George and Alex were with me, and I think they've heard enough excuses about buying and smoking pot lately. I didn't think I could get away."

"Ah," Carlos says, squeezing his hand. Lando looks away and turns faintly pink again. He looks at Carlos and smiles shyly, and Carlos gives him that suave smile that Lando always feels smitten over. _How does a guy like him even like me? I'm a fucking freshie and he's a junior who was prom king last year. I bet if there was a contest for best looking guy in school he'd win. And he makes out with me after school???_

"What are you thinking?" Carlos asks, eyebrows raised. 

"Oh, nothing," Lando lies, giving him another shy grin. 

"Okay, if you say so," Carlos says, clearly not convinced. But he changes the subject anyway. "Did you know Nicola and Lewis got suspended?"

"What?" Lando asks, actually incredulous. "But I saw her at lunch."

"Yeah, me too. But you should have seen, it was such a funny thing. She got caught, she was giving Lewis a blowjob in the bathroom, I guess, and Mr Steiner found them, and he dragged them out, and her face was so red and Lewis had not even button his pants, you should have seen. I laughed very hard."

Lando is laughing very hard himself because he's walked in on this scene before and was grossed out for a week and the idea of Mr. Steiner catching them is so hilarious he's cracking up. 

"Three day suspension," Carlos continues. "And Lewis's face was so red I could hardly tell that he was a black man anymore."

Lando is laughing so hard he's almost in tears.

"But, one thing babe," Carlos says more seriously, "now she will not have the party on Friday night because her parents are not happy. She will lay low for a while, so we cannot go there."

Lando stops laughing and nods, unsure of what to say. _Fuck. I want him, I want him so bad, but...I'm so nervous. Am I relieved? Am I disappointed? _He doesn't know.

"I was thinking," Carlos goes on, "that instead..." He looks at Lando almost a bit nervously. "Uh, I was thinking that maybe...if you want, we can go out for dinner? I have money from my job, and I would like to take you to a nice place, if you would want?"

Lando's heart picks up because _I'm such a fucking romantic, it's going to be the death of me one of these days, I swear, especially with those dark eyes asking..._"Yes, of course," he breathes, trying to sound casual.

"You would want?"

"Yes, I would love to," Lando says, and this time he leans over and puts a kiss on Carlos' cheek before retreated to his side of the car again.

Carlos smiles broadly. "Good. I will like that. And afterwards, I was thinking...maybe to go to a hotel?" He spits out the last part so fast Lando almost misses it. 

Again, his heart rate goes up and he has no idea what to say but he feels crazy and like he's going more crazy and all he can say is "yeah."

"We can do that, I will like that too," Carlos says softly, and Lando realizes that they're pulling up at the curb at the end of his street where Carlos drops him off so Lando's parents won't see who he rode with. Carlos stops the car.

"Me too," Lando answers, and he closes his eyes when Carlos leans over and kisses him deeply. When they break away, Lando knows he has to get home and he also feels very got under the collar, so he gives Carlos' hand a quick squeeze and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

"Text me," he says as he opens the car door. 

"I will," says Carlos, and then blows him a kiss as Lando shuts the door and heads down the street towards his house.

****************

When George walks into Alex's house, Alex can tell he's still exhausted. He smiles weakly, but he certainly isn't energetic. On the one hand, Alex is relieved because _now I don't have to go on a run with him, _but on the other hand he's worried because _this is unusual for George, he goes to bed early and never does anything irresponsible. _

George didn't come right away when Alex arrived home, so he's had a chance to cook and he tells George the food is ready.

"Good," George says. "I'm hungry, and you make good food." 

Alex doesn't know why that feels as nice as it does. He heads into the kitchen and serves up pasta and the sauce with chicken he made and tops it with cheese and slides a plate in front of George, who gives him a thumbs up. Alex grins and serves himself as well and they eat mostly in silence, Alex's mind trying to run away with him all the while. He catches himself glancing worriedly at George now and then. _Now who's the worrier, _he chides himself. _George worries, you just take care of things so he doesn't have to. _

And that thought feels so comforting and useful, but it also makes him feel oddly protective of his best friend (_well, even more than usual, because isn't that how we've always been_?) and he tries to tell himself to calm down and _stop worrying/thinking/protecting/whatever so much_, but it doesn't help. George catches him looking at him oddly and Alex blushes, and that makes things even worse in his head, even though George says nothing.

_He is going to think you're a loon pretty quick if you don't get your shit together, Albon. _

"Don't worry about the dishes," he says out loud. "I'll deal with them tomorrow, there's not enough to start the dishwasher yet anyway."

"Okay, cool," George says, putting his plate in the sink. "That was good, thank you." And he smiles again and Alex feels proud again and _jesus this is bad._

"What do you want to do?" Alex asks, taking his own plate to the sink and putting away the leftovers. 

George shrugs. "I'm tired, I don't want to go for a run tonight."

_Well, that's a good thing anyway. But maybe also I should've run out some of these damn weird feelings or something. _

"iRacing? Or Fortnite? Halo, CoD, something else?" Alex asks as they head up to his room.

George shrugs again. "I don't mind which one. Maybe a movie?"

"Okay," Alex says agreeably, and something inside him shivers at the prospect of sitting next to George on his twin bed watching a movie. He's not sure if it's a good or bad feeling. <strike>It feels like he wants something.</strike> He certainly won't do anything weird. 

"Hey, maybe that new Martin Scorsese movie?" George suggests.

"It's three hours long though," Alex reminds him, but his voice isn't meant to convince. 

"Yeah, but it's early, and we can finish it tomorrow night if we don't tonight, right? If you're fine if I come over again?"

Alex shoves his shoulder. "Of course it's fine, weirdo. You've never had a problem inviting yourself before!"

George colors and also laughs. "Okay, fair. But what do you think?" And he eyes Alex curiously.

Alex has to look away after a second of meeting his eyes. "Yeah. Let's just do it." They climb onto the bed and Alex hands George his extra pillow and they lean against the back of the bed like always while Alex turns the TV on and pulls up the film.

At first Alex finds it hard to follow, especially with George sitting so close he can feel his body heat and when he stretches out his leg just a bit, it brushes against George's ankle and Alex leaves it there for just a second for a reason he can't explain before he pulls back. But he gets curious partway into it and he's watching as Frank Sheehan the mob hitman smashes a man into the concrete when he feels George twitch. 

He glances at him and George has his eyes closed and isn't watching the violent scene. He also can't see Alex watching him as he twitches again, seemingly unnerved by the movie. 

Alex grabs for the remote and pauses it. "Hey, George, you okay?" He asks quietly, resting a hand on George's shoulder. George starts and immediately his eyes fly open. "Hey, sorry, were you asleep?"

George shakes his head. "No, it's fine, I'm fine."

Alex looks at him unbelieving. He can't shake the feeling that George isn't being honest and he feels that protectiveness towards him again. "George, if you don't want to watch this part we can skip it."

George shakes his head again. "I'm not some pansy, you know I watch this shit all the time." He sounds annoyed, but Alex knows him too well. He's nervous. 

"Well," Alex says, never moving his hand from George's shoulder, "I just want...wanted to make sure..." He meets George's eyes, trying to read him.

George looks away and then suddenly sits up stiffly and says, "Actually, I..."

Alex waits. 

George searches for words and then he starts speaking too quickly. "I had a bunchofdreamsandtheywereallaboutRomain."

Alex doesn't catch it all, but he catches enough. "Okay, slow down. You have been having dreams about Romain?"

"Nightmares," George mumbles. "Last night I had a bunch of them. All about Romain and...and stuff. When I woke up, I felt like I hadn't slept at all. That's why I'm tired."

"You worry too much," Alex says gently, squeezing George's shoulder. "That sucks that you couldn't sleep. It's not fair that Romain is making you nervous."

George looks at him and their eyes meet. George looks away after a second before adding, "And you were in them."

Alex's heart flips a bit and he struggles to not show it. _I was? _"Do you want to tell me what happened?" He asks carefully.

George shakes his head, but then he says, "Just...that he was hurting us. Hurting you. And stupid shit, like he shut me in a broom closet in one dream." Alex laughs and George does too before he says, "It's all crazy stuff, and some of the dreams were so crazy that you were joining him and chasing me."

Feeling a little surprised, Alex snorts and then rolls his eyes. "Fuck that guy, I'd never take his side, he's a prick. Your dreams were pretty crazy."

George smiles, but something about that seems to make him sad again too. 

"I don't mean you're crazy," Alex says hastily, worried that he's implied the wrong thing. "It's understandable that you'd be worried, I'm just saying, you know. I hate Romain."

George grins and Alex smiles back at him. 

"You wanna finish? If not it's okay," Alex reassures him, finally taking his hand from George's shoulder even though he doesn't want to. 

"It's fine," George says, and he seems more cheery. "I'm just tired. Laying here and watching it sounds good."

Alex unpauses the movie and they continue to watch it until it finally finishes and it's dark and getting later.

George stretches and yawns loudly. "That was pretty good, but I need to sleep."

"Same," Alex says, and slides off the bed to go brush his teeth. He can hear George rummaging around in his overnight bag as he stands in the bathroom, and when George enters a moment later, he's wearing athletic shorts and a t-shirt. Alex puts his toothbrush away and George takes a turn at the sink while Alex goes back to his room and changes into sweatpants. He's about to just go shirtless, but something in him feels anxious about that and he blushes to himself and pulls on a baggy shirt anyway.

"The guest bedroom sheets are clean and everything if you want to sleep there, or there's the couch if you want," he says as George comes back into the room. "Take your pick!" 

George pretends to struggle making up his mind and then says, "Ah, the guest bedroom it is, and I shall be quite comfortable I'm sure, your highness."

"Fuck outta here," Alex snorts, throwing a pillow at him.

George grins and catches the pillow. "Thanks, I'll need this."

"There should be pillows in there already," Alex says, frowning. 

"I don't need it for that," George says seriously. "I need it...for this!" And he swings the pillow at Alex, who ducks just in time and flees down the hall to the guest bedroom where he tries to shut the door, but George is too quick and shoves his way in and repeatedly smacks him with the pillow.

Alex is laughing and trying to fend him off, and finally George relents. "I reckon you've been taught your place, peasant," he growls in an odd accent.

Alex starts laughing again and George threatens him with the pillow. "Oh yes, my lord, I surrender!" He yelps as George smacks him again. 

"Good! Now off to the dungeon with ye!" George bellows, pointing in the direction of Alex's room. Alex, still laughing, stands up and makes his way down the hall. George sticks his head out of the guest room doorway and says, "Night, Alex," with a smile, and Alex smiles back at him. "Night, George."

****************

George can't sleep. He tries everything, and nothing works, and when he finally drifts off, it's only for a few moments before a violent dream of Romain in the form of a mobster jolts him awake. He tries again to sleep, but it's no use. 

The glowing digital clock reads 12:30am.

He blinks, and tries to close his eyes, but he can't make his body or his mind shut off, and all he can think of is the fact that _Alex is down the hall but not here_ and he feels strangely isolated. 

_Maybe he'd let me sleep on the floor?_

_That's weird. No, it's not. It's just the floor. It's not like I'm asking to share his bed._

_But that would be fine too, right? We've done it before, we're old friends._

_I don't care. I can't sleep. Fuck it. I'm going to go see if he's awake. I won't wake him up, I'll just see if he's awake._

After he's decided this, it takes another long time before he gets up and actually goes down the hall, carrying his pillow under one arm, and he stands outside Alex's room for a long time as well before he finally decides to go for it and reaches out to _just barely tap _Alex's door.

"George?" Alex's voice asks. _He doesn't sound like he's slept yet. Maybe he can't sleep either. _

"Yeah," George whispers, even though there's no one else home. Alex's parents work night shifts. "It's me. Can I come in?"

"Of course," Alex answers, and hesitantly, George opens the door. "Are you okay?" Alex asks, leaning his head to one side to look at George. He's turned on the bedside lamp and he's sitting up on the bed, feet under the blankets, and his hair is<strike> _adorably _</strike>messed up. _He looks so cute like that. _George slams that thought into a box in his brain and blames it on the late hour. "Yeah," he says thickly. "Sorry, I just...I can't sleep. I figured...maybe you wouldn't mind if I slept on the floor?"

Alex looks at him. "I can't sleep either," he admits quietly. "But you don't need to sleep on the floor, if you want...you can just sleep on one side of my bed?"

_There is no side of your bed. Your bed is a twin. _George swallows his apprehension about it. _It's late. I'm tired._ "Okay," he says quietly, and Alex moves over to make room for him, moving his pillow over so that George can put his down next to him. Alex lies down on his side, turned towards George, his cheek resting on his hand, and he looks up at George and smiles. George smiles back, a little awkwardly, and sets his pillow down and pulls aside the blanket and slides in next to Alex. He can feel Alex's warmth, but they aren't touching. 

"Will you turn off the lamp? I can't reach from here," Alex says. 

"Yeah," George replies, and the room goes dark. George lies on his back and stares up into the blackness. His heart is beating just a bit faster than it should be, but he ignores it and tries to focus on the fact that he's not alone anymore. He can hear Alex breathing next to him.

Alex shifts to lie on his back as well, bringing his arms to his sides, and George feels their arms resting against each other. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on that little connection to ground himself.

Time passes, and Alex's breathing settles into a rhythm, and George thinks he must be asleep. He's drowsy, but he's still awake, and slowly he finds himself tilting his head until it rests on Alex's shoulder. Alex doesn't move. George takes a deep breath and settles his cheek into Alex's shirt sleeve and closes his eyes. Alex smells like fresh deodorant and laundry soap and it's familiar.

Just as George is about to finally succumb to sleep, he feels Alex stir and freezes. Alex's breathing changes and George knows he is awake and waits for him to push him away, but Alex doesn't. Eyes shut, George feels Alex shift slightly and then, very slowly, Alex's head comes to rest on top of his. He stays motionless as Alex gets comfortable and then he feels Alex bit by bit relaxing against him. 

Finally George lets his restless mind and body calm down and he sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, fluff overload perhaps, but I had fun writing it and I hope you like it.   
We're finally getting somewhere. Yay!
> 
> As always, it's fictional, though George has talked about waking up next to Alex and Guenther Steiner's quotes are almost verbatim because he's always good content.   
Hopefully I'll post again soon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, so yeah, I know there's been a bit of a delay on this but I'm still here.
> 
> Also, sorry but expect gratuitous goth Charles in this one because I'm just unable to get over it.

When George wakes up the next morning, he doesn't open his eyes. The sound that awakened him, Alex's alarm, continues beeping while George lies still and tries to make sense of his surroundings.  
His head is still resting on Alex's shoulder, and Alex isn't moving either. George isn't sure if he's awake or not. He also feels something heavy resting on his chest and he cracks open his eyes just a tiny bit to see that it's Alex's arm curled over him protectively. He closes his eyes again and exhales as deeply as he dares and relaxes into the feeling of being close to Alex. He knows he'll only have this for a short period of time.  
The alarm is still beeping and Alex is stirring a bit and George hates the damn noise and _can't it just be quiet and let us stay this way?_ but it's a school day and he knows they have to wake up soon. Eyes still clenched shut, he hangs on to the feeling of warmth and safety for a bare few seconds that he can before Alex's arm lifts and Alex sits up and reaches over George to smack the button on his alarm clock and silence it. George still doesn't open his eyes yet because he's worried about what Alex might be thinking, but he doesn't get to go on with the act for long because Alex starts to shake him.  
"George, wake up," Alex whispers.  
George lets himself be shaken once more before he opens his eyes slowly. Alex is looking down at him, his hand on George's arm. He smiles.  
"Hey," George says lamely.  
"Good morning," Alex says, and his smile makes George smile too. "Did you sleep well?"  
"Yeah," George says, sitting up. He notices that Alex takes an extra few moments before he lets go of his arm. The touch is so light, and yet George feels it intensely when Alex finally releases him. He wants to take hold of Alex's hand and _well, really just hang onto it._ And by now, George has started to realize that no matter how much he doesn't understand it or encourage it, the thoughts of Alex and the things he wants from him won't go away. It's become so normal now that he sometimes forgets to be careful about it, but after a while, he'll inevitably come to the realization again that as far as he has ever known or can tell, Alex doesn't feel the same way. George is even past the whole question of whether he's gay or straight. He decided long ago that he doesn't really care which gender he dates, the only thing he knows is that he's always felt something for Alex, as long as he's been old enough to feel things.  
"No nightmares?" Alex asks.  
"No," George says, and Alex smiles. "I slept really well actually."  
"Good. Me too," Alex replies, rolling back the blanket on his bed. "Fuuuuuck, I don't wanna go to school."  
"I know, me either. Let's not," George grumbles, rolling his eyes.  
"If only we could," Alex sighs, flopping back onto his pillow and folding his hands behind his head. George leans against the headboard and looks at him fondly. Alex groans loudly and drags himself upright again. "Fine, I guess we have to go."  
"Yeah, we'd better go," George agrees reluctantly. _Staying in bed with you all day would be so much better,_ he avoids saying out loud. Instead, he gets off the bed and stretches with a grunt.

Alex rolls his eyes at the noise and George laughs at him.  
"I call shower first," George says quickly, scrambling to grab his clothes. He smirks at Alex. "You can go downstairs."  
"Oh, how you mistreat me in my own home," Alex whines, and George shoots him a narrow look that makes him laugh. "Fiiiine, I'll go downstairs."  
"Well, I'm the guest after all," George reasons, and Alex flips him off.  
"Guest my ass," he says dryly, opening dresser drawers and pulling out fresh clothing. "You've been over here so many times for so many years you practically live here now. I say if you can let yourself in with the spare key and cook food and hang out in my empty house, you're not really a guest."  
"That's just a technicality," George protests, laughing. "And that was one time!"  
"That I know of, anyway," Alex corrects him, and George makes a guilty face. Alex pulls a shirt out of his drawer and throws it at George. "PROOF! That's your shirt!"  
George looks at it and sure enough, it is his shirt. "I wondered where that went," he says. "It's been missing for months. How do you have it?"  
Alex shrugs innocently. "Wouldn't be the first time you left your shit here for a long time. Get outta here with that guest nonsense."  
"Hey! You're supposed to treat guests with respect!"  
Alex shuts the dresser drawer and gathers up his clothing for the day. "I refer you to the previous statement. You are not a guest, and therefore..." He pauses for a moment at the door..."I am taking the upstairs shower!" And he dashes off down the hall.  
George tries to catch up and beat him, but Alex slams the bathroom door in his face and locks it before making a loud cackling noise. "Mwahahaha! I win!"  
"You're such a cheater," George yells at him through the door, but he's laughing. Alex just laughs from inside the room and turns on the shower.  
George heads downstairs and showers in the other bathroom. As he stands under the water, his mind is drifting to last night and how safe he felt.  
_I can't remember sleeping that well for a while. And Alex...put his arm around me. Was that an accident?_  
He remembers that Alex removed his arm before he thought George was awake. _Maybe he didn't want me to know? Was he embarrassed because it was an accident? Or he didn't want me to know he did it on purpose?_  
He doesn't have answers for any of that, so he just turns it over in his mind like a puzzle he can't solve. He knows he can only know the truth if he talks to Alex, but the thought is intimidating. _How do you start that convo anyway? Hey mate, I was faking sleep and I know you put your arm around me, was that platonic or what? I'd have to be an idiot to ask._

_**********************_

_Charles has repainted his fingernails. _It's the first thing Max notices when he slides into the seat next to Charles at the back of the room at the last minute before class starts. While there were chips in the black polish yesterday, today Charles' hand displays perfectly painted nails, smooth black marks at the end of his long, delicate, too pale hands. Max looks away quickly, but Charles still sees.

"Something to say?" He asks Max pointedly just above a whisper so that no one hears him over the rustle of students getting out their notes and getting settled and talking among themselves.

Max shakes his head quickly, eyes still averted.

"Looks like you do," Charles presses, and Max dares to glance at him and regrets it because _is he wearing eyeliner? Fuck, why is that so...hot? _Charles' eyes are wide and heavy with dark lines and Max is _sure_ he hasn't seen Charles like this before, _I would remember. _

"It's cool," Max says awkwardly, looking away in an effort to escape staring. He wants to stare, he wants to follow the black eyeliner and admire how carefully Charles has applied it, but he doesn't. He's not sure why it's getting to him. _Probably just the...uniqueness...of seeing it on a guy. Especially if that guy is Charles. _

He figures there's no point in telling himself that he doesn't find Charles attractive. He doesn't want to think about it, but, well, _if I hadn't made out with him already, maybe his stupid eyeliner wouldn't matter. _He carefully avoids looking anywhere near Charles as he leans down and fumbles around in his backpack for his notebook. Charles is wearing black boots and his ripped black skinny jeans tuck into them smoothly. Max mentally kicks himself for noticing. 

He's overly cautious about his elbows as he takes random notes, trying meticulously to stay out of Charles' space, as if somehow keeping himself physically distant from Charles will help him keep his mind distant as well. It's futile, though, when he can hear Charles breathing next to him. When Charles starts nervously bouncing his leg up and down, Max can feel the vibrations through the floor and up through his desk. He sits very still. Charles fidgets with his notepaper. Max stoically stares ahead, trying to recapture his attention and focus it on Mr. Raikonnen's analysis of American foreign policy, but he doesn't honestly care much and his ears keep trying to pick up what Charles is doing next to him.

He might not be letting himself look at Charles, but he's listening more than he'd like. 

It's then that he feels a light touch on his arm. He starts and turns towards Charles, but Charles is drawing on his notepaper and the touch was obviously unintentional. Max feels stupid for the way his heartbeat picked up just from the slight unexpected contact. He can't decide why he feels jittery around him, because yes, Charles is attractive, and yes, they may have drunkenly made out, but it's not as though he's ever had a longterm interest in Charles. _I've known him forever. It must be the goth thing that's making him more mysterious and..._He doesn't know what other word to use. Tempting would probably work, if he wasn't dead set against that idea. Charles may be attractive, but Max was not about to get tangled up in that drama. _There's no way it wouldn't get around. _Another light touch grazes his arm and this time, he shivers just a little before he can even cognitively react. He doesn't look at Charles, but then there's another touch, just below the short sleeve of his shirt, cool fingers on his arm.

He turns slowly to throw a glance at Charles, because it seems more intentional, and when he does, Charles is looking at him with those dark eyes of his and _holy hell is that mascara also? Or are his lashes really that long? _Max keeps his face blank somehow, and Charles points to the notepaper. He's doodled over most of it, and Max can see parts of extremely detailed cars and motorcycles and animals, but Charles is pointing the tip of his pencil at words written in simple but surprisingly neat handwriting.

**Can I get a ride home today?**

Max nods quickly, just once, before he can think better of it. _There's no sports practices today, anyway. _

Charles letters the words **thank you** underneath the first sentence and Max gives another brief nod before quickly returning his gaze towards the front of the room, even though he may as well be staring into a black hole for all the good it was doing him. He wasn't paying any attention, all pretenses at notetaking abandoned, and his mind was oddly blank except for random flashes of thoughts that he pushed away before they could fully form.

Charles didn't touch his arm again or say anything more, and when class finished, Max pretended to rifle around in his backpack for something until he saw Charles' black boots walking away.

***************

Max tells himself that he's forgotten about everything weird he thought and felt in Government earlier by the time school is finally over. Of course he remembers that he promised Charles a ride, but he selectively forgets the rest, or at least, he convinces himself he has. 

He actually finds himself waiting for Charles for once instead of the other way around. There's no one in sight when he turns the corner towards the spot where he always parks his moped, and he loiters for a few moments before deciding to put on his helmet and get ready anyway. 

He's just flipped the visor down when he sees Charles crossing the parking lot towards him, and he takes off his backpack and waits as Charles approaches, shoulders hunched, hood around his face. He walks straight up to Max and holds out his hand. For a second, Max doesn't know what he's doing, and then he snaps out of it and hands his backpack to Charles. 

"How come you never carry a backpack?" He asks Charles gruffly. He likes speaking from behind the helmet visor. He knows Charles can't see how he's staring at him for once.

Charles shrugs. "I leave everything here mostly."

"How do you do homework?" 

Charles doesn't really answer. Max doesn't press him. He takes the short conversation to rake Charles over without him seeing. He follows the curve of Charles' face beneath the hoodie, follows the pale lines of his neck to where his skin disappears into his v-neck black shirt. 

He forces himself to stop after a few seconds pass, aware that Charles will notice he's being strange. They get onto the moped and Max pulls off and out of the lot and down to the stoplight at the corner. It's red. Max brakes a bit quickly and Charles leans into him just a bit. Max turns his head to makes sure that he's okay. 

In the car next to them, he spots someone familiar, and he does a double take.

It's Seb in the passenger seat of the dark blue car, but the driver is Mr. Raikonnen. 

Max frowns a little. He pities Seb, who must've had to catch a ride home with the most taciturn teacher in school. But Seb seems relaxed.

Charles taps his shoulder, startling him, and he sees that the light is green and surges forward again.

Charles' apartment complex is on a quiet street, and Max pulls up to the curb like he always does, putting his foot out to hold steady while Charles hops off. He's expecting Charles to just give him the backpack, maybe put it over Max's shoulder like he sometimes does, but instead, Charles stands still and looks at him oddly, fixating on him with those dark, makeup enhanced eyes.

He speaks suddenly, and it's low, like most things he says, but Max hears just fine. "Do you want to come in?"

Max freezes. Behind his helmet, his mind is scrambling. _What does that mean? I've never even been inside his apartment. We barely speak._

As if sensing his hesitation, Charles speaks again. "No one is home. Mom's at work."

Max is still frozen, his brain unsure of how to react. His mouth forms a word that should be "no," but it's not. "Yeah."

Charles nods, the hood slipping back and revealing his wavy brown hair. "Come on."

Max awkwardly gets off his moped and leans it on the kickstand. He doesn't know if he wants to take off the helmet, but he slowly does, lifting it off his head and trying to tamp down his flyaway hair. Charles turns and heads towards the door.

The Leclerc's apartment is on the third floor, in the corner, and when Charles opens the door, Max smells a pleasant scent he can't quite name. He decides it's cinnamon or clove or something like that. It's a small home, the kitchen and livingroom opening into one another seamlessly and a huge window displaying a view of the street below. 

Max catches Charles looking at him, as if he is trying to make sure Max is okay with his apartment. Max exhales slowly, feeling oddly okay about this weird turn of events.

"This one is mine," Charles says, stepping quietly over towards the door on their right. Max notices then that Charles has removed his boots and is in his socks.

"Sorry," he says awkwardly, turning back to the door and removing his shoes quickly. "I didn't mean to."

Charles shrugs in the doorway of his room. "It's okay."

He fades back into the room and Max walks slowly over to the open door, feeling out of place and intrusive. _What am I doing here? _ His mind helpfully supplies him with the image of Charles lying on the bed in a very compromising position and Max viciously crushes the thought. _Fuck. I am so fucked. What the hell am I doing?_

But he pokes his head into Charles' room anyway and then one foot and then the other, and he's standing in Charles' bedroom. 

The walls are bare except for a few band and movie posters, and the bed in the center of the room is a twin mattress on a simple steel bedframe. The nightstand next to it holds a lamp and a book, nothing more. The closet door is shut. 

Max looks to his left and sees a desk with papers strewn about, and he looks closer because he recognizes the drawings. They're like the doodles Charles does in class, but larger and even more detailed and _better. They're fucking great._ There's no color in them, they're all pencil or charcoal, Max doesn't know the difference honestly, but he knows Charles' work is excellent. 

"You're very talented," his voice says clumsily, and he glances quickly at Charles, who is leaning against the desk chair, and he's blushing. 

"Thanks," he murmurs. 

Max picks up several of the sheets, examining them, admiring them. _Mercedes, Ferrari, Maclaren, supercars and sports cars, they must be his favorite. Ferrari especially. He draws them a lot._

Charles is watching him. Max meets his eyes, and it feels a little like he's looking danger in the face instead of running away from it.

He looks away again towards the drawings and his eyes catch something else. _Black makeup tubes. __Or whatever they're called. _

Charles is still watching him, clearly knowing what Max has seen. But it's not like it's a secret, after all. Everyone at school saw.

"Are these what you use?" Max asks, gingerly laying a finger on the eyeliner and drawing it back quickly like he's burned. 

Charles nods. Max meets his eyes again, following the layers of black and the perfect lines that frame Charles' eyes like he wanted to do earlier. _We're alone now. No one will know. _Charles doesn't flinch, he lets Max scrutinize him and he doesn't move, meeting Max's eyes without looking away.

"Do you like it?" He asks suddenly, and Max himself flinches, but Charles doesn't react.

"Yes," Max whispers, and he's decided he doesn't care, he's flinging caution to the wind now. He steps closer. _We made out once already and he didn't tell. There's no one here. No one will know. No one will know. _

He wants to fight that and flee temptation, but even more he wants to grab Charles and make the dark makeup on his eyes run down his face. He wants to do things he's never really considered doing before except in vague _what would it be like to fuck a guy _thoughts, late at night, and he's never thought about anyone in particular, but now all of the thoughts star Charles and the urge to find out what it would be like won't leave his head right now.

"Good," Charles whispers, and Max realizes Charles is leaning so close he can feel the air leave Charles' mouth. 

And Max decides doesn't care what he should do,_ I don't give a fuck anymore, fuck it, fuck it. _And he grabs Charles, one hand in his hair and the other on the back of his neck, and pulls him roughly forward and kisses him on the lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, shit's going down now folks, and thanks for being patient as I try to update as often as I can.
> 
> It's all fictional, of course. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and following my slow burn story. I hope you're starting to feel rewarded!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll, the rating goes up for this chapter and we pretty much dive right in and also it's pretty much just a chapter of smut!!  
Please take note. It gets graphic and if you don't want to read it, feel free to skip reading this chapter.

Charles doesn't shy away from the kiss, he gives in easily, pressing close to Max, and when Max pulls away, Charles chases his lips and catches them again. Max is unwilling to let it go that way, so he fights back with a third and more demanding kiss, and after that he loses count. Charles is overeager, especially for a boy who rarely talks, and Max finds it easy to dominate the exchange. Charles lets him, relenting and letting Max push him backwards until he hits the wall with a gentle thud and leans his head back, almost as if he's trying to take a break from the barrage of Max's mouth.

Max doesn't allow it. He's losing all remnants of control now, leaning his full weight against Charles' body, one hand still on the back of Charles' neck as he keeps contact with Charles' lips. Charles continues his submissive posturing by obediently opening his mouth and inviting Max inside. The makeout is dirtier than the first drunken one and Max is panting when he pulls back just a little. But he truly loses his breath completely when he takes in Charles, whose head is lolled back against the wall, his eyes closed, his lips puffy. The black eyeliner and mascara are smudged, but they're still definitely intact and Charles opens his mouth just a little, gasping a little for air after the long seconds of deprivation. He whimpers almost inaudibly, but it's enough for Max to want to go again. Charles opens his eyes as if he can feel Max's gaze and when their eyes meet Charles blushes deeply and drops his head, shy in the face of Max's obvious lust. 

Max lifts Charles' chin up to face him again, and Charles is breathing heavily, and Max leans forward and presses his mouth onto Charles' lips roughly. Charles jerks a little as Max bites on his lower lip, but Max isn't much for gentle loving and honestly he's never tried being anything but aggressive in everything he does. Charles inhales shakily as Max releases his lips and bends down to mouth at his neck. 

"Fuck," he mutters, and Max doesn't know why that word makes him want to keep taking, but it does.  
"Yeah?" Max breathes, just under Charles' ear, and then Max runs his teeth along the curvature of Charles' ear, eliciting another curse from him. Max pulls back suddenly and laces a hand through Charles' thick hair and grips it roughly, holding his head still against the wall, chin lifted, exposing Charles' pale neck. Leaving tiny red marks all the way down, Max's mouth finally makes its way to the collar of Charles' black v-neck. 

He runs his tongue underneath the fabric, teasing at the obscured skin. _Fuck, I want...I want... _"Shirt off," Max says aloud, his words outrunning his mind. He releases Charles' hair and neck and goes for the hem of his black shirt. But Charles has other ideas, and Max is frozen for an instant as he watches Charles slide down the wall slowly and drop to his knees on the carpet. He looks up at Max almost questioningly, as if to make sure he's pleased, and Max's mouth is completely dry. _Fuck, fuck, yes, and looking up at me with that damned eyeliner. Fuck, I'll make it run down his face. _Wordlessly, Charles reaches up and fumbles with Max's jeans, and Max is rock hard, throbbing at just the thought of this, and Charles keeps eye contact in a way that makes Max feel crazy.   
He reaches down and seizes Charles' hair and Charles doesn't flinch, in fact, he smiles a little, and Max takes in a gasp. "You like that?"  
Charles nods and unbuttons Max's jeans and tugs them down, but he doesn't take off his briefs, instead, Charles reaches up and runs his hand over Max's hard-on, gripping it tightly. 

"Fuuuuck," Max moans, thrusting his hips into Charles' face, demanding more. A faint grin traces Charles' lips, and instead of giving in, he palms Max again, squeezing his hard dick through his briefs and running his hand back and forth until a wet patch appears. Max's fingers pull harder through his hair and Charles whimpers a little at the pain.  
"Get going, fuck," Max murmurs as Charles looks up at him again, and with the hand he's not using to grip Charles' hair, he runs a finger over Charles' lips and then over Charles eyebrows.

Charles' eyes flutter closed and he doesn't move as Max runs a gentle finger over the black eyeliner that started all of this. He swipes a little in a line down Charles' cheek and when his hand comes away, Charles' eyes open slowly and Max looks at him. "So, are you going to take care of this?" He asks, hips thrusting forward again, almost without his permission.   
"Yes, sir," Charles whispers, and Max moans loudly without meaning to make a sound. _Fuck, he knows what I like without even asking, or maybe he just likes being submissive._  
And that's when he slides Max's briefs down around his ankles and lets his cock spring out, only to put it straight down his throat.

It's fucking better than anything Max can ever remember experiencing in the bedroom, and he doesn't even know why. _Maybe it's how deep he takes it, maybe it's how he lets me control the pace, maybe it's that...fuck, that thing he does...fuck, with his tongue, god, fucking hell. _"God, yes," he groans aloud, wanting to make sure Charles knows how much he's enjoying this, wanting him to _not stop, not change a thing._ "Fuck, Charles, oh my god."  
Charles moans with his mouth still full of Max's cock and _god it's fucking wrong how good he looks like this. _Max's hand closes more tightly through Charles' hair and with his other hand he props himself up over Charles' head against the wall as he feels his knees getting weak.  
Charles is gazing up at him, and Max thrusts into his mouth as far as he can, making Charles gag, but he takes it and swallows Max even further, and Max repeats the act over and over. "Holy fuck," he murmurs shakily. "You look fucking good choking on my cock. You like that?"  
Charles whines and nods just a little, and his eyes are watering and tears are seeping out the corners of his eyes while Max keeps pushing his cock down Charles' soft throat and pulling back through his red lips. Charles does something with his tongue that Max almost can't take, and then when he thrusts down again, Charles' eyes spill over and black streaks run down his cheeks, but he doesn't stop, doesn't try to beg for mercy or get away, instead, he opens his mouth wider and slowly slides all the way up Max's cock to the base before sliding his lips all the way down again and _it's too much, it's too fucking much, fuck, fuck. _"I can't, I can't, I'm gonna come," Max hears himself say, his voice more ragged and shaky then he'd like.

Charles just keeps going, black makeup running down his face, and he reaches up and steadies Max's cock into his mouth with the black painted fingertips, and Max gasps out and then he's lost it and he's coming, and Charles lets him come in his mouth. Max falls against the wall weakly and rests his body against it as Charles' mouth slips off his cock. He watches as Charles calmly walks to the wastebasket by the desk and spits the come into it. It's not what Max expected, and he wants to be offended, but _jesus christ, that was fucking incredible._

Charles wipes his face with a tissue and tosses it into the trash before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed to face Max. Max's eyes wander down below the edge of Charles' black shirt, and _fuck, he's so hard too. _Brushing back his sweaty hair, Max pushes off the wall and walks over to the bed and stands over Charles, who's looking up at him now with the black tearstains still on his cheeks. He looks _hot._ Max leans down and kisses him roughly, pushing him backwards until Charles is lying flat on the bed. Max sits down next to him and reaches over and unbuttons Charles' ripped black jeans and tugs them with difficulty off of his pale hips. He's skinny, so skinny, and Max doesn't know why, but he likes the way it looks. He runs his fingers down Charles' flat stomach and Charles stops breathing, holding his breath until Max lifts his fingers off his skin again and completely removes the jeans and briefs underneath. 

With a gasp, Charles starts breathing again, his breath hitching over and over as Max snakes his fingers over bare skin and grazes Charles' hard-on with light touches. Charles closes his eyes and moans, and Max finally takes hold of his dick and begins to stroke it, and Charles whines, and Max goes faster.  
"Fuck," Charles whispers. Max pushes Charles' shirt up, revealing firm lines that he honestly didn't expect. He puts his lips over them, running his tongue over the revealed skin as he continues to jerk Charles off, listening to his soft groans. When he lifts his head, he sucks in a breath because _holy shit, he looks good underneath me like this. _

Charles whispers something.  
"Speak up," Max demands.  
"Please," Charles whispers. "Please."  
"Please what?"  
"Please let me come," Charles whines, lips parted, eyes wide. "Please, Max."  
Max feels as if he could get hard again just from hearing that, even after everything. But he just curses under his breath and says aloud, "You can do better than that."  
"Please, please, please," Charles begs, his voice whimpering at the end. "Please, I need it."

Max continues for a few more seconds before he finally decides to relent. "Okay fine. Come then."  
And Charles does, moaning and writhing as Max strokes him through it, his eyes closes and his mouth open. His chest heaves, and Max releases his cock and lets it drop, walking over to the desk and wiping his hands off with tissues like Charles had earlier. He brings a few over to the bed and gives them to Charles so he can clean himself up.

They don't speak.

Charles cleans himself and replaces his clothes, and Max is dressed again before he's done. Charles sits on the edge of the bed, looking at Max, and Max just looks back at him.

Max's mind is racing. _What the fuck just happened. What the fuck was I thinking. _"Charles?"

"Hmm?"

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" 

Charles' eyes dart over to meet Max's. "No, fuck no." 

Max nods, because for some strange reason he believes him. "I thought you said you weren't gay," he says humorlessly.  
Charles chuckles dryly. "I'm not. I just don't have much preference either/or."  
Max just shrugs.   
"You?" Charles asks curiously, and Max licks his lips. _What am I? After what just happened? What the fuck am I?_

Max ends up just shrugging as well. "I don't know. I always thought I was straight, but I also...never had much aversion to the idea of...men. So...yeah, I don't know."

Charles doesn't press him. 

Max sits down on the bed a few feet from Charles and they sit there in silence for a long time. Max dares to sneak a few looks at Charles huddled in his black hoodie again, and he catches Charles sneaking looks at him too.

When his feet start to fall asleep, Max finally stands up and looks about awkwardly. "Um, I think I'm go," he says, hating himself for every word and hating how awkward he feels and also wanting to get out and run away before he loses it completely.

"Okay," Charles says quietly.

"You won't say anything?" Max asks again, this time failing to keep the desperation out of his voice.

"Fuck no," Charles says, and his face is unreadable. "See you tomorrow."

"See you," Max mutters, and he hurries to the door and throws on his shoes and takes his backpack with him as he practically runs out of the building and jumps onto his moped. 

His mind is raging all the way home, but unexpectedly, it's not with regret. Max has never been much for regretting things, especially things he enjoys _and that was definitely enjoyable. _What his mind is really focused on is the fear. _If anyone finds out, I'm fucked. _

_If my dad finds out, I'm fucking dead. _

_But Charles...Charles won't tell. _

_Charles won't tell._

And oddly, Max believes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then!!!! That's...that, and I'm sorry, and also not sorry, I have no idea, but let me know if it was tolerable. I don't usually write smut so ya'll GIVE ME SOME FEEDBACK pls and thanks.
> 
> It's fictional! Of course!
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always, hope to post again soon with more of our other characters. Sorry for the wait!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, another so soon? Yes indeed. But no smut this time. 
> 
> Please enjoy, and do expect that it could be a bit for real next time before I post again, but I promise not too long.

George walks out with Alex after school, remembering at the last second that there isn't any sports practice today. Alex is quiet as they push out the double doors and into the parking lot, and George doesn't say anything either until they reach the middle of the lot where they have to part ways. _Dammit, should've parked closer to his car._

"Do you want to come over again?" Alex asks, shielding his eyes from the sun so he can see George's face. 

"Duh," George says, and Alex grins. 

"Cool. Are you going home first?"

"Yeah," George says. "Gotta grab some clothes and tell my mom. She won't care."

"Okay, sure thing. We can go on a run if you want."

"Toto would really like it if I did," George admits.

Alex laughs at him. "See you in a bit then."

When George opens the back door, he hears his mom in her office. "Yo, Mom, I'm home," he calls out, opening the fridge and grabbing a cheese stick to munch on as he sprints upstairs. 

"Hi honey!" He hears from below. "How was school?"

George pretends not to hear and opens his dresser drawers, flinging out a few items and stuffing them into his backpack. He shuts the drawers and heads downstairs again, where he can see that his mom is still in the office. 

"How was school?" She repeats, staring down at her laptop screen.

"Oh, you know, same old same old," George replies, rifling through the fridge again, this time for a handful of grapes that he pops into his mouth quickly one by one.

"Oh, that's good honey," his mom says. _Bet she didn't even hear what I said._

"I'm going to spend the night at Alex's, okay?" He calls out.

His mom briefly glances up, as if processing what he said, and then she looks back down. "Okay, honey. Have fun! Don't stay up too late, do your homework, be good!"

George isn't listening anyway. "Bye mom!" And he shuts the door behind him on his way out, jumping down the back steps and grabbing his bike from the side of the shed. 

He swings aboard and starts towards Alex's. 

When he arrives, there's a car in the driveway that isn't Alex's car. He recognizes it, but he can't remember if it's Alex's mom's car or his dad's car. _Either way, what are they doing home? They're always gone for work._

He tries to remember what day it is. _Thursday. So, yeah...they should be working. Odd. _He leans his bike against the edge of the garage like always and walks to the side door, letting himself in like always. 

But he's unprepared for what he hears when he steps inside. There's yelling.

George freezes. He can't hear words, but he can hear voices, and neither of them is Alex. He doesn't move, not daring to open the door again and step out, but not daring to go any further into the house. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, but he doesn't want to embarrass Alex either by letting him know he walked in on what George can only assume is his parents fighting.

There's more yelling and a crash from upstairs like broken glass. Alex's mom comes down the stairs, yelling over her shoulder, "You fucking bastard!"

"Bitch!" Alex's father yells from the top of the stairs. George presses himself against the door and hardly breathes, hoping they won't notice him, and they don't, they're too caught up in their argument. "You're making me late for work!" Alex's mom yells.  
"It's your stupid fault, you started this mess!"  
"Fuck you, you're the one who can't stand to be wrong."  
"Oh, get off your high horse," Alex's father scoffs.   
"I'm leaving for work. The sooner you get out of here, the better," Alex's mom shouts from the front door.  
"You wish!" Alex's father yells, but the door has already slammed shut. He mutters under his breath as he stomps back up the stairs. 

George makes a run for the lower bathroom and shuts himself in, breathing heavily, heart racing. 

He hears Mr. Albon come downstairs again, and his muffled voice calling upstairs. Alex answers him, and Mr. Albon stomps his way out the front door as well. 

George sits on the counter and tries to decide what to do. _I could go out again and pretend I didn't hear anything. I could go upstairs and pretend I just got here. I could ask Alex if everything's okay, but maybe he doesn't want to talk about it. _

In the end, he cracks open the door very slowly and looks about, making sure Alex hasn't come down, and he tiptoes out and towards the side door again. 

His hand is on the handle when Alex speaks behind him. "Hey, where are you going?"

George jumps and turns around to see Alex sitting on the stairs, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He straightens up a bit and waves limply at George. 

"Sorry, I...didn't think you'd want me to hear that."

Alex shrugs. "I didn't, but it's too late." 

George doesn't know what to say, but he drops his bag by the door and walks up the stairs to sit by Alex. _I wish I could do something. _He feels helpless, so he just sits next to his friend for a long moment.  
Alex lifts his head and sighs. "It's fine, they just do that."  
"Yeah, but..." George doesn't know what to say, but he doesn't think it's fine.  
"Don't worry about it," Alex says, but there's none of his normal cheeriness in it. "Are you hungry?"  
"Not really," George lies. The cheese stick and handful of grapes is not nearly enough. "But, hey, why don't I make something tonight?"

Alex laughs. "You're the sous-chef! Not the actual chef!"

"Yeah," George agrees, "but if the real chef doesn't want to cook, the sous-chef has to cook. It's good practice."

Alex rolls his eyes, but he is smiling at least. "You can help me, we'll do it together. Come on."

They cook mostly in silence, Alex's music playing on low while George chops cilantro and Alex cuts first tomatoes and then garlic. When George turns around, Alex is chopping an onion, tears leaking out of his eyes and running down his cheeks.

"Hey, onion, that's not cool. You're making my best friend cry," George quips, shaking a finger at the onion. Alex chuckles, but it's choked off, and that's when George realizes that it's not only the onion that's making Alex cry. 

_Fuck. What should I...can I..._

"Why don't you let me do that?" George asks out loud.   
It doesn't work though because Alex shakes his head. "No, it's okay."

George debates with himself behind Alex, watching him for long seconds, his mind racing, but his body has already decided what to do.

He walks over and lays a hand over Alex's and takes the knife from him, sets it on the cutting board, and wraps his arms around Alex's shoulders from behind, holding him tightly.

For a second, he's not sure what will happen, and then Alex steps away from the counter and breaks George's hold, backing off a couple feet away, but not far. He doesn't look at George.

"Hey," George says quietly, hands shaking, afraid he's fucked up, afraid he's gone too far. "Hey, it's fine, okay? I'm your best friend, right?"

"Yeah," Alex whispers, still not looking at him. 

George waits, not moving. Alex shifts from foot to foot, brushing away a rogue tear now and then.

George tries to just _not do anything, let him decide what he needs. _He stays still somehow.

Finally, Alex looks at him. "They're getting a divorce," he says softly.

"You should've told me," George says, holding out his arms but not approaching closer. "I'm here for you, right?"

Alex nods, swallows hard, and then says, "They just decided it tonight. They kept threatening that they would...but now I guess they are."

"I'm sorry," George says, and his mouth feels dry and he feels so inadequate and lost for words. _I have no idea what you say to that. I guess...I just won't talk. I don't want to say something wrong._

Alex shrugs and drops his gaze again, fresh tears springing out of his eyes, and George wants nothing more than to hold him, but he's afraid, so he waits for some sign, some request. But Alex just continues to cry softly.

Finally, George can't take it. He can't stand here and do nothing. So he opens his mouth, wanting to ask if he can hug Alex, but instead it comes out, "Alex...can I hold you?"

And Alex looks at him, and George is about to sink through the floor and simultaneously start backtracking like crazy when Alex finally says a simple "yes."

George clears the distance in a quick step and pulls Alex to him, wrapping him up in his arms _<strike>like he's always wanted to</strike>_ and holding him close, his hands on Alex's muscled back. He brushes them awkwardly up and down, unsure of himself but sincere in his efforts. 

Alex wiggles his arms out from in between them and wraps them around George's waist, and after a moment, he rests his chin on George's shoulder, and George closes his eyes because this is a moment he doesn't want to let go of, even though he also hates the fact that Alex is in pain.

"I'm sorry," he whispers again, and Alex gives him a squeeze. "It's not your fault."

"I know," Alex whispers. "It's just stupid."  
George murmurs agreement almost against Alex's hair. He wants to bury his face in it, but he feels that's a line he can't cross. _Especially right now._

They stand like that for a long time, and it's Alex who finally lets go. "We should finish dinner," he says.

George thinks he seems reluctant to move as well, but he just nods. "Okay."

They finish cooking and eat in silence, and they wash up without much talk, just a little small talk here and there, nothing that George even really notices. 

"Should we go for that run?" Alex asks, and then winks. "I know what Toto would say..."

George rolls his eyes. "Fine. We'll go."

They don't really talk while they run either, but George catches Alex dashing away a stray tear as they wait at the corner for the light to change, and it pains him.

************************

Lando throws himself onto his bed and the springs groan in protest. He's tired, and it's barely eight o'clock. _Jeez, must be getting old._

His phone buzzes and he checks it.

It's Carlos. **Are we still on for tomorrow?**

Lando's heart kicks up a notch and his eyes stop drooping as much. _Fuck, that's tomorrow. Today is Thursday. Fuck. _

But he texts back a **Yeah, duh. You?**

Carlos replies with only a winking face, but he follows that up with. **Yeah, duh yourself. Can't wait.**

**Me either.**

Lando stares at the ceiling. _What am I wearing? I better get George to cover for me. _

_And fuck, I hope this goes well. I hope I can get him off. _

Worries occupy his mind and even though he's tired, it's hours before he falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for all your lovely feedback! You guys keep me going.
> 
> fictional, and etc, blahblah.
> 
> I promise we're getting somewhere with George and Alex!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been meaning to update this work and all but things kept happening and I went on holiday, so I'm just now getting around to it again.  
Hopefully I'll be a bit more regular with the updates in the near future, but we'll see. Seasonal depression has got me all kinds of screwed up and I mostly lack motivation of any kind.  
This chapter is some angst and some fluff. No smut.

Alex seems normal enough after they return to the house from their fairly short run. George is trying not to be hyper-watchful and protective, but he can't help the way he constantly wants to make Alex laugh and finds himself checking repeatedly that Alex isn't on the brink of tears. 

They walk through the kitchen and Alex kicks off his shoes. "Do you want dessert?" 

George shrugs. "I'm okay either way." 

Alex rolls his eyes. "Well, diet be damned, I'm having ice cream." He opens the freezer and pulls out chocolate and strawberry and holds them up. "Which do you want?"

George laughs. "Okay, fine. I'll damn the diet with you. Chocolate." _Might be easier for him to feel okay about it if I eat some too. _And it's not like he minds or anything. 

Alex scoops them both a bowl full of chocolate ice cream and puts the tubs back in the freezer.

George presents him with a spoon, and takes one for himself. "Should we eat down here? Or watch something?"

"Let's go upstairs," Alex says, and George follows. Alex flops down on the bed and scoots over to make room for George, gently placing his bowl of ice cream in his lap and reaching for the remote. George settles himself next to Alex and the bowl feels cold on his legs. "What do you want to watch?" He asks.

They put on a movie, some dumb action movie with very little plot, and they almost don't finish it, but somehow they limp to the end.

"That was awful," Alex says, and George smacks his forehead in agreement. 

"That was shit. What should we watch now?"

Alex shrugs, and then he laughs, and continues laughing, leaning back against the bed frame. 

George watches him, more concerned than anything else. "Uhhhh, Alex? You okay?" He asks, right before Alex's laughter becomes briefly hysterical and then cuts off as he tries to force himself to breathe normally again. 

"I was just thinking," he finally says, almost panting a little, "You know, we should be watching a rom-com or something, because here you are, my best friend, sitting here in my bed while we eat ice cream because of a breakup. Just, it's not my breakup or your breakup, it's my parents breakup, and that makes even less sense."

George does laugh at that. "Well, I guess ice cream is good for break-ups, even if they aren't yours."

"Ice cream is good for everything."

"Okay, that's also true. But you better not tell Toto how much of this I'm about to eat."

"Dude, coach would have a royal fit," Alex replies, turning on the TV. 

"That might be fun to see," George teases, and he's secretly pleased when Alex elbows him. "Ow, I'm not gonna say anything though!"

"Better not," Alex warns, scrolling through streaming services aimlessly. 

"Oh, there you go, Falling Inn Love! I'm sure that's what you need," George suggests mockingly as it appears in the lists on the screen.

"So fucking cheesy," Alex groans, rolling his eyes. 

"Ohh, even better, we could watch I'll See You in My Dreams!" _Thankfully he won't know how accurate that is. _

Alex snorts and backhands him lightly, continuing to scroll. "You're ridiculous."

A few seconds go by, Alex still scrolling, seemingly not really looking at anything. Another couple of romance movies appear, but George bites his tongue for as long as he can before whispering ominously, "Perhaps you'd prefer Our Souls at Night?"

And Alex does giggle, especially when he sees the movie's cover picture. "Yikes! That sounds creepy and then when you look at it it's actually two old people just...hugging or something. Fuck no." 

"Okay, fine then, since you don't like any of my suggestions, why don't you pick something?" George grumbles sarcastically, fake pouting. 

"Okay fine I will then," Alex retorts, but he's smiling. "Oh, how about To All the Boys I've Ever Loved? Sounds right up your alley."

George freezes. 

It's meant to be harmless, surely, there's no way Alex knows that George..._no, he doesn't know, it's just a joke_. He tries to laugh, but it comes off weird. "Well, I can't say it sounds like my life story," he manages to get out. And it's true, in a weird way, because _there are no boys I've ever loved, there's just you. _

Alex is looking at him, so George tries to smile cheerfully and pretend he definitely did not just have a mini freak out about what was _certainly, positively, _a joke. 

But Alex has been his friend for too long to buy it. His eyebrows lower just a fraction and then rise, like he's working out something in his mind. "Well, I'd assume not, you're only in high school, you can't possibly have that many boys you've ever loved," he teases after a beat.

"Well no, of course not," George replies lightly, rolling his eyes.

"So just a few then. Like, if it was you, maybe they'd have to change the name and make it To All Two Boys I've Ever Loved, or something," Alex continues, his tone silly. 

But George knows Alex isn't missing anything and he wants so badly to tell him everything right then, to just let it all come tumbling out, _all the years I've been keeping quiet about you. _"Something like that," is what comes out, and he meant it to be sarcastic, but it sounds lame even to his own ears. He feels a stab of fear now, because yes, he wants Alex to know everything, wants to tell him everything, but at the same time _I really fucking don't because jesus fucking christ it's Alex and he's my best friend and what will he say? I'd rather never tell him than lose him._

Alex is still looking at him, and George looks at the TV screen in an effort to be casual, after a second he notices that Alex has stopped scrolling through the movies entirely, so he looks back again toward Alex.

Alex has his head cocked to the side just a fraction and he's looking at George like he can see right through him, and George is suddenly weak inside and he feels sick, and his head is pounding over and over _Alex knows, he knows, he knows, he knows._

"George...are you gay?"

"I think I'm going to be sick," George gasps out, and before he can think, he's fleeing the bedroom, running down the hall and into the bathroom, closing the door and dry heaving against the toilet. His heart is racing. Nothing comes up, but he feels like his insides are being spun in a blender. There's a bad taste in his mouth, and he feels totally unsure of what's happened or what to do. He spits into the toilet bowl, but still doesn't vomit. 

Breathing is hard. 

_He knows, he knows, and now it'll never be the same, it'll always be weird, and I'll never get to be his best friend like we used to be. Maybe Lando will want to hang out more, or maybe Max, or else I'll be alone. _But the idea of Lando and Max replacing Alex is just as bad as the idea of being alone. _God, why couldn't I just be normal and say normal things and joke about girls or something and keep cool instead of being a fucking awkward idiot. Jesus, George, you are an absolute moron._

"Can I come in?" 

Alex's voice is so soft George barely hears it, and he can't seem to choke out a decent reply with his vocal chords now apparently failing him. Seconds pass while George opens and closes his mouth like a fish, searching for words and voice to say them. 

Alex taps on the door a little louder. "Hey...can I come in?" He repeats, this time a bit louder. 

George shuts the lid of the toilet, sits on top of it, pushes out a deep exhale and says as normally as he can, "I'll be out, sorry."

There's no reply for a few seconds, and George thinks Alex has gone, but then Alex speaks through the door again. "Can you just open the door? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," George answers, but his voice still isn't cooperating, so it sounds strained. 

"Come out then," Alex answers, and the worry in his voice is more evident. "I'm sorry, it was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Somehow, that isn't what George wants to hear. But he doesn't really know what it is he wants to hear either. He stands up and swallows hard, steadying himself on the counter, and looks at himself in the mirror, breathing in and out and trying to steel his expression. When he can breathe normally and his face seems as unmoved as he can make it, he slowly puts his hand on the doorknob and lets himself out.

Alex is leaning against the wall across from the door. George tries to avoid his eyes, but Alex steps closer and surprises him with a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I was just kidding, I didn't..."

George shrugs. He feels awkward all of the sudden, and clumsy, especially with Alex looking at him this way, so apologetic, and he hates it. He opens his mouth to say something, he doesn't really know what, but what comes out is, "Yeah, maybe I am." And he wants to take it back out of the air, but he also feels a sense of odd relief. 

Alex is looking at him the same way he was a second ago. "Okay," he says. 

"Okay?" George asks, eyebrows rising. "You don't sound surprised. You don't sound..."

"...upset?" Alex fills in questioningly, and George nods weakly. Alex rolls his eyes. "George, you're an idiot."

"Uh, ouch?"

"How long have we been friends?"

"Um...a long time," George answers, unable to calculate the exact amount on the spot.

"Exactly. What did you think I was going to say?" He purses his lips and then continues in a pretentious falsetto voice, hand over his heart in his best pearl-clutching imitation, "Oh my Lord, I can't believe you're gay! I have paid absolutely no attention during the years of our friendship and now I am just SO SHOCKED!" 

George laughs without even being able to help it, and Alex laughs too. _His smile is so nice. _"You knew?" He asks, still a little confused, and trying not to get lost in the fact that Alex seems so casual.

"Eh, wouldn't say knew for sure," Alex says thoughtfully. "More like I guessed. I mean, you've never had a steady girlfriend or really even expressed much interest in one either."

"You haven't really had any steady girlfriends either," George points out. He thinks for a second that Alex is blushing, but he dismisses it. 

"Yeah well, still. I guess I just know you," Alex shrugs, and he smiles again. "I don't care, you know." He says over his shoulder, walking back towards the bedroom. George follows, head spinning. They retake their positions on the bed, and despite the ice cream being melted, George spoons a few bites into his mouth. "Sorry," he says after a moment, even though he's not exactly sure what he's apologizing about, except for running off. 

"For what?" Alex asks.

"Running off, not telling you, freaking out, I don't know," George mumbles, stirring his ice cream soup. 

"It's fine. It's no big deal. I just wanted to make sure you were good."

George nods. "Thanks." And he spoons more ice cream into his mouth. 

"Of course. You're my friend."

There's silence for a few moments, and George is trying to regain his balance, to feel okay with _this_ being out there and especially with Alex knowing the truth, _well, part of it. _

Which, thinking of that, he also finds it weird that Alex brought up how few girlfriends he's had. And yes, okay, George really hasn't had any steady girlfriends, nor did he ever talk about any of them much with Alex or about any girls at all with Alex, but _it's not like he talked about them either. Or had girlfriends more than I did. _

"What's your excuse?" He says out loud before he can change his mind.

Alex looks at him. "What?"

"What's your excuse for never having a steady girlfriend or talking about girls? I mean, I'm gay, we just established this, so that's my excuse. What's yours?"

Alex sets his bowl of ice cream in his lap again, but not fast enough to keep George from noticing that his hands are shaking ever so slightly. "Who says I have one?" He asks, tone light.

George shrugs. "Well, you know. We've been friends a long time."

"Using my words against me, huh?" Alex retorts, smiling slightly. "I guess that's fair." He pauses for a moment before saying carefully, "Well, I'm not gay."

There's an inexplicable pain in George's chest, a surging feeling of being _so close and yet so far. He'll never love me back. _It's not a new thought, it's one George has always known to be true, but there's a unique sting to it now. "Then what?" George asks, tone level, face passive, insides threatening to collapse inwards.

Alex shrugs. "I just...I guess I never thought about it much. I don't think I care."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't really care about...that. About who I date. I just date people I like."

"Like, bisexual?"

Alex shrugs again. "I guess."

"Well, there must not have been many people you've liked," George cracks, and Alex snorts and then laughs. 

"Yeah, guess not," he says, nonchalant and unconcerned. Cool, calm, collected. "How about you?"

George envies that mentality. _But I guess you can have that when you're not in love with your best friend, _he thinks distantly as he scrambles to come up with an answer. "Uh, yeah. Same here."

Alex raises his eyebrows, but says nothing about it. "I don't know if I want to watch anything, it's getting late."

Thankful for the change of topic, and yet still feeling that stab of pain throughout his body, George just nods. He finishes his soupy ice cream and Alex passes him his empty bowl as well. George takes the dishes downstairs and puts them in the sink. He can hear water running in the bathroom; Alex must be brushing his teeth. Leaning against the counter, he tries to sort out everything that's bouncing around in his head, but it's useless. Not wanting to seem off, he drags himself to the other bathroom and brushes his teeth, changing into clothes out of the bag he left downstairs earlier. 

When he heads back upstairs, Alex has turned off the TV and is sitting on the bed. He looks up at George. "Do you want to sleep in here?" 

It's so casual, so normal, and it _is normal, it's Alex, it's not like we haven't a million times, _but George also knows it's just a tiny bit different. A tiny bit that makes a world of difference. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

Alex rolls his eyes. "I don't care." He shuffles over to make room, and George slides under the blankets beside him, the pillows still laying where they did the night before. Alex shuts off the light.

George stares into the blackness, even though it's impossible to see anything and he knows he may as well close his eyes, but even though he tries, they keep popping open. He listens to Alex's breathing and he can hear that Alex isn't asleep either.

Downstairs, the front door opens and shuts. They both flinch, but neither speak. 

"Boys, are you still awake?" Alex's mom calls from somewhere on the steps. George listens as her feet hit the top step and he can tell that she sees that the light is off and after another long moment, there's the sound of another bedroom door being opened and closed. 

"Do you know why she's back early?" George whispers into the darkness.

"No," Alex whispers. "She's probably avoiding my dad by changing shifts."

George feels like kicking himself for not thinking of that. "Oh, sorry."

"It's fine," Alex whispers. 

Silence returns, and somewhere upstairs shower water starts running, not very loud, just background noise. George closes his eyes, trying to calm his racing brain enough to sleep. He can still hear Alex breathing, even with the sound of the shower, so he tries to focus on that, but Alex's breathing has changed, and George notices it suddenly.

He sits up a little and tries to look over at Alex, but it's too dark. "Alex?" He questions in a whisper. 

"Yeah?" Alex answers, and George can hear that he's stifling tears. _No wonder his breathing changed._

"Are you okay?"

Alex doesn't answer, and suddenly George can feel his shoulders shaking ever so slightly through the mattress. He reaches out slowly, carefully, blindly, until he feels Alex's arm, and he rests his hand on it lightly.

Alex's arms are shaking just a little as well. 

George doesn't know what to do, and he's debating turning on the light, but then Alex speaks in a barely audible whisper. "Hey George?"

"Yes?" George replies quietly. 

"Would you...like in the kitchen...if you don't mind..."

George's heart thumps against his ribs, mostly with concern and care, but a little with the overwhelming desire to fix everything right now. "You want me to hold you?"

"...if you don't want to, you don't have to, I don't want to..."

"Shhh," George cuts him off. "Of course. Come here."

Alex crowds close to him, and they fumble around in the dark for long seconds until finally George manages to get an arm around Alex's shoulders and pull him close. Slowly and tentatively, like he's afraid George will move away, Alex rests his head on George's shoulder. 

George can hardly breathe, he's not sure if this is a dream, but he really doesn't think it is and that means that he's really holding Alex like he's wanted to for so long. Gently, he throws his other arm over Alex's body, completely encircling him. 

"Thanks," Alex whispers, his voice sounding clumsy and unsure. 

"Anytime," George says, and Alex snorts, but George means it. Of course he means it.

He can feel Alex's breath on his neck, and when he's completely still and listens with all his might, he can hear a very distant rhythm that he suspects is Alex's heartbeat.

George wants to stay awake for this as long as he can, but he's so comfortable, so safe, and he feels like he might never feel this safe again, and so despite his efforts, he falls asleep almost as soon as he feels Alex relaxing against him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yay! More progress. Hope you like it and hopefully I'll be back sooner rather than later (fingers crossed).
> 
> All usual warnings apply.


	13. Chapter 13

Lando wakes on Friday morning feeling as if he hasn't slept much at all. _Funny. I almost never sleep this much, and what do I get? _He huffs. 

It's not as if he doesn't know exactly why he feels sleep deprived. He went to bed worrying about _tonight, _and _Carlos, _and _doing things, _and it wasn't exactly all just anticipation and excitement. It was also a lot of nerves and overthinking, the usual for Lando really. Last night, however, had been excessive even by his standards.

He rolls out of bed and grimaces at himself in the mirror. _Stupid curls. Guess I'll never be able to post a selfie with the #iwokeuplikethis. Unless I lie. I could lie. But also, can't lie when I wake up next to Carlos tomorrow morning..._and he groans. He decides he'll just have to run into the bathroom quickly after waking up and that way he can fix his hair and Carlos won't see him while his hair looks like one big cotton ball. _Thanks genepool. Not._

He grabs for his backpack, which is lying on the floor where he dropped it yesterday, and he starts throwing clothing into it. It's all wrinkled, which he hates, but _it's my own fault, I never put things away properly._ _Jeez, I'm such a wreck. Carlos is totally gonna be judging me. He's so much older and I bet he doesn't wad his clothes up and throw them into his drawers. He always looks too neat for that. _

"Lando!" 

He jumps, not much, but just a fraction. He's been so on edge lately, even his mom's usual morning call up the stairs startles him. "Yeah mom! I'm awake!"

"Okay honey! Ten minutes!"

"Yeah, got it!" Lando calls out, frantically running to the bathroom to tamp down his unruly hair and brush his teeth and throw those things into his backpack too.

He remembers then that he needs to tell his mom he's going to George's house, and also that he should've texted George about it before now, but George is always a good friend and Lando knows he'll cover.

"Hey mom?" He yells, toothbrush still between his lips.

"Yes hon?"

"I'm going to George's tonight, is that cool?" Lando's heart speeds up for some reason, even though he knows his mom has never said no to such a question.

"Oh sure, yeah. Make sure you bring everything you need so that no one has to bring you back to get anything. Toothbrush, underwear, all that."

Lando rolls his eyes at his reflection in the mirror. _God, if only you knew. And also, I'm old enough to remember things! Jeez. _But all he says out loud is, "Yeah, got everything."

"Okay good. I'll be in the car, don't make me wait!"

"Yeah, yeah, coming," Lando shouts, frantically looking around the room to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything. His eyes land on his phone charger and he pulls that out and throws it in his bag and zips it up. Running downstairs, he pauses to shove his feet into his converse shoes and runs out the door, closing it behind him before his mom can yell something about being "sure you shut it all the way!" As if he hasn't heard that enough times already.

The ride to school is the same as always, and better even because his mom is on her phone already, talking about some business stuff or whatever, Lando doesn't listen, he's just grateful he doesn't have to talk right now because inside he's buzzing far too much and he's afraid he won't be able to keep it hidden.

_Oh yeah, text George, _he remembers, and pulls out his phone. **Hey Georgie, I'm "coming over" tonight ok? Cover for me bro?**

He knows George will do it and he also knows George is probably already on his way to school and won't answer anyway, so he swipes over to Carlos' messages and texts his boyfriend a cheery

**Morning handsome. **

Then he deletes the heart eyes emoji and replaces it with a normal one. Then he changes it back. Deletes it again, changes it back. Finally sends the text with the heart eyes emoji after all and internally smacks himself for doing it because it might be the wrong thing to send. He turns off his phone screen, but then, as he's sliding it back into his pocket, it buzzes. He pulls it out, expecting it to be Carlos, but it's not, it's George.

**Bruh if you're going out to get high AGAIN, I'm not covering for you. You're overdoing it.**

Lando blinks. _Fuck. This is exactly what would happen right now, of all times, especially since he thinks I have a major stoner habit going. Fucking Carlos and his fucking great ideas. _His fingers hover over the keys, and then he types back quickly. **No, it's not that, I promise. Just cover ok. **

George must be either late or really early today because he texts back an immediate response. **Dude idk. Are you sure that's not it?**

Lando feels his throat tightening even more, and he's faced with a decision. He doesn't think about though, he needs George on his side for this. _And anyway, Carlos said I could tell George and Alex if I needed to. And I don't need to tell Alex, just George. And I won't even tell George who I'm meeting up with. It'll all be fine. _**Come on George, I'm not lying. We'll talk at school and I'll fill you in, k?**

Thankfully, Lando's almost at school anyway, but George allays things even further by answering **ok yeah. **and a thumb's up just as Lando's mom pulls up to the curb. Lando shoves his phone into his pocket and jumps out, waving to his mom because she's still on the phone. She waves back and pulls away. Lando's heading inside when he spots George and Alex pulling into the lot in Alex's car. _Oh shit. _He whips out his phone again and shoots a message to George. **I'm kind of trying to keep it on the DL so don't bring Alex?**

Lando can see George looking down at his phone, so he's not surprised when he gets an immediate one letter response of **k. **

_Good enough for now. _He's pretty sure George will come around fine after he tells him just enough to make him understand. 

Lando feels weird being here this early. Usually his mom doesn't have to leave until a bit later, and he's always slow to get ready, and between the two, he finds himself always lagging. Today is different though, the nerves didn't let him sleep in. He finds a seat in Horner's class, even though he's a whole five minutes early, and he makes sure there's room for George and Alex to sit nearby. 

George and Alex walk in right before class begins, like they always do, and George spies the seats next to Lando and waves Alex over too. George slides into the seat beside Lando just before Mr. Horner clears his throat loudly and says, "Good morning" in a way that everyone knows really means "shut up now."

It's not until lunchtime that Lando gets enough time to pull George aside. It's hard, because George is glued to Alex like always. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, all three of them have been friends for a long time, but today it's proving frustrating. _How have I never noticed how attached at the hip they are, damn. _No matter what he does, George refuses to understand his eye movements or frantic head tilts, so he finally pulls out his phone while they sit at the table eating Five Guys burgers outside in the fall air.

He texts George: **Meet me in the hall after science. When Alex is heading to art. **

He sets his phone down and finishes off his burger. When he looks up, George is checking his phone, frowning. Lando grabs his phone before it vibrates and reads George's reply. 

**why do you want Alex to not be there?**

Lando bites his lip to keep from swearing and sighs instead. Alex glances at him. "Something wrong?"

"No," Lando lies. "Just one of those days."

George is still looking at him, and he's still frowning, and Lando is annoyed, but he texts back **You'll understand if you just do it.**

Unsurprisingly, George's frown does not disappear, and all Lando gets in reply is a **K, **which seems very passive aggressive, but he'll take it at this point.

Science class is longer than usual. Honestly, Lando usually doesn't mind science class. Mostly that's because Mr. Kubica is gloriously inept at experiments, good-natured, and easygoing, but it's also because the subject comes easily to him. Today though, he's itching to get this conversation with George over with, and by the time the bell rings and he's bolting from his seat, he's forgotten everything about the past hour of class. 

George and Alex join him in the hallway in the mass of students hurrying towards their last class of the day. For Alex, today that's art, but he's the only one who takes art of the three of them. For George and Lando, the final class of today is Digital Media, and they walk there together. Alex splits off with a quick "see you later" and finally, finally, Lando can speak to George alone.

"You better start explaining what's going on," George starts almost before Alex is out of earshot. "What're you doing that you don't even want Alex to know?"

"I'm...seeing someone," Lando spills out immediately, like a bubble bursting. "I'm not a stoner, I mean, yeah, I smoke weed sometimes, but it's not like that, I've just been _saying_ that, you know, to cover for when I go out to see...him. It started out with us just wanting to keep it a secret, but now everyone thinks I'm a huge pothead, and yeah, I lied. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make anyone worry, it was a bad idea."

George considers this carefully, eyeing him narrowly as they lean against the wall just outside the digital media classroom. They have a few minutes, but Lando still feels like they have to hurry. He's jittery. "I see," says George after a long moment. "So that's where you're going tonight? To meet this mystery man?"

Lando blushes outright, and George laughs at him. "Yeah," Lando mumbles.

George rolls his eyes and snickers again, but he stops suddenly and looks back to Lando. "It's not some creepy adult guy, right?"

"What? Fuck no!" Lando huffs. "He's our age, or like, pretty much. Jesus, George."

"All right, all right," George concedes, motioning at him to calm down and lower his voice. "I'll cover, okay? But I wanna know who this guy is! Come on, Lando. You trust me, right?"

"Yeah," Lando says, and it's true. He decides to just be blatantly honest. "He's not out yet. I would tell you but...he wouldn't want that."

George nods slowly, scrutinizing Lando's face. Lando isn't sure if he's trying to see if he's lying or if he's trying to make a guess about who the "mystery man" could be. But George does neither. He just shrugs. "Okay, well. Whenever, you better tell me. You owe me that much!" And he winks.

Lando feels immensely relieved, and he grins. _Thank god he's okay with it. _"I promise."

Class is about to start, and they both turn towards the room, but George puts a hand on Lando's shoulder and looks into his eyes very seriously.

Lando's heartrate jumps. _What now? Please don't be having second thoughts!_

"Lando," says George slowly, very serious. "Listen here though."

"...yes?" Lando squeaks.

"If you have sex, use a condom." And George slaps him on the shoulder and bursts into laughter so hard he has to cover his mouth.

"You're a dick," Lando says, exhaling deeply and chuckling in spite of himself.

"No, you want to um...you know...with yours." George wiggles his eyebrows and winks suggestively.

"Fuck off," Lando groans, even though George is right, and _thanks a lot, now I have to really try not to think about Carlos right now._

"Oh, class is starting," George points out, and he winks again and Lando rolls his eyes as they hurry in and take their seats in what Lando is sure will be the longest class of his life.

********************************************************

Max sighs into the wet towel he's draped over his face. _Football practice was extra brutal this afternoon. _It's hot, and he's sweaty, and he's tired.

Reluctantly, he flips the towel over his head so he can see where he's going as he heads back to the gym to shower.

He's opening the door when he sees something a little odd. _Is that Romain Grosjean? I thought he was in reform school, or juvie, or whatever. Weird._

He pauses by the door and watches as Romain walks across the parking lot towards a little green car.

_Alex's car, _he realizes.

Romain looks into the windows, tries the doorhandles, and when he seems to not have any luck, he walks away. _Okay, that was strange. _

When he's sure Romain is gone, Max enters the gym and heads for the locker room, looking for Alex. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the somewhat dull chapter, but I finally just decided to post anyway. 
> 
> Be back hopefully soon though! Thanks for reading.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real smut in this chapter, but some making out and etc.

Alex is stuffing his cleats into his gym bag when he feels a tap on the shoulder. 

“Uh, Alex?”

“Yeah, Max?” Alex doesn’t look up, concentrating on fitting everything into his bag.

“Do you know why Romain might be hanging around your car?”

_ What?  _ Alex turns to shoot him a look, trying to keep his face neutral. “He was doing what?”

“Hanging around your car. Just like, looking in the windows, walking around it…”

“Shit,” Alex says, half to himself and half out loud. Max is looking at him quizzically, but Alex doesn’t know how to explain and  _ yeah I don’t really feel like it anyway _ . Instead Alex finds himself pushing past Max and running out of the locker room and down the hall, barely noticing that he’s not wearing any shoes. He skids to a stop in front of the side door and looks through the glass, but though he can see his car clearly, there’s no sign of Romain.  _ Fuck. I better text George.  _ He fumbles in his pocket for his phone before remembering that it’s still in the pocket of his gym bag where he leaves it during practice. He takes a last look out to make sure Romain is nowhere about before turning back to the locker room, his sock feet padding along the hard tile floor.

When he opens the locker room door, Max looks up from digging around in his locker and waves him over. Reluctantly, Alex obeys. Max is frowning. “What’s up, man?” 

Alex shrugs and tries to make light of it convincingly. “Oh, you know, Romain isn’t exactly the type you trust around your things.”  _ Seems like I’m doing a lot of acting lately. _

Max snorts, and he seems to be convinced.

_ Seems like I’m doing a good job of acting, at least. Except for with George. _ But as much as he wants to feel bad for not keeping George out of his personal problems, he doesn’t. He’s far too grateful to have George around and he’s thankful that he doesn’t have to put on an act for him. Alex searches through the pocket of his bag, finding his phone and typing a quick text to George.  **You’re home already right?**

George doesn’t reply, and Alex knows it’s ridiculous to expect him to answer within seconds, but he feels nervous about it, so he keeps staring at the phone for longer than makes sense.

Max shoulder-bumps him. “Yo, what’s so important? A giiiirrl?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “No, fucker.”

“Yeah whatever,” Max says, and he winks over his shoulder as he heads for the shower.

Alex makes a face at him, but his phone vibrates in his hand. He looks down and reads the message from George.  **Yeah, everything ok?**

Alex hesitates a moment.  _ Maybe I’ll wait to tell him until later. Don’t wanna freak him out.  _ He decides that would be best and types  **Yeah all good. Want to meet up for a run?**

George replies with a thumbs up emoji.

Alex shoves his phone back down into the pocket of his bag, grabs his extra clothing, and heads for the shower. As he’s stepping into the water, he wishes he’d asked George if he wanted to come over again.  _ Oh well, I’m sure I can ask him when we meet up for a run. _

**********************************

Lando has been trying to tell himself to stop fidgeting for the last twenty minutes, but it isn’t doing any good. He’s still jittery as hell as he looks into the mirror in the empty school bathroom, fiddling anxiously with his hair.  _ Lay flat, stupid curls!  _ He huffs, running his wet fingers through his hair for the hundreth time, still unsatisfied with his appearance. He’s leaning close to the mirror, very carefully pressing down on a wayward curl,  _ almost, almost there.. _ .and his phone startles him by vibrating against his leg. Heart rate accelerating, Lando shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out the buzzing phone. His hands are shaking so hard he can barely hit the button to answer it, but somehow he does, and somehow he holds it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey you,” Carlos’ deep voice says, and Lando looks himself in the eye in the mirror and silently tells himself to  _ be cool. _

“Hey,” he answers. “What’s up?”

“I’m outside,” Carlos replies. “You coming babe?”

“Yeah, coming now,” Lando says. 

“Okay, see you in a minute.” And Carlos hangs up.

Lando puts his phone away, washes his sweaty hands, and looks in the mirror one more time, checking himself over from head to toe. His hair isn’t perfect, but he’s given up on it. He puts his hands in his pockets and straightens his chin. The gray shirt he’s picked is a little wrinkled, but not bad. He’s rolled up the sleeves to the elbow and tucked it into his clean pair of dark jeans, and he even put his nicer belt on for the occasion.  _ You look good, Lando,  _ he reassures himself.  _ Now get going, or he’s going to be waiting. _

He grabs his backpack and heads out of the bathroom. The school is almost empty and way more quiet than usual as he runs down the two flights of steps to the side exit, avoiding the main hallway for fear of running into someone he knows. He looks out the door and sees Carlos’ car sitting next to the curb, so he takes a deep breath and dashes outside, down the sidewalk, throws open the passenger side door and leaps inside like he’s done so many other times.

Carlos pulls away from the curb immediately like he always does. As they head down the street, Carlos turns to give Lando an admiring glance and a wink. “Hey handsome.”

Lando is sure he’s blushing. “Hey yourself,” he says, a little awkwardly, because  _ fuck, Carlos is more suave than usual. Is suave the right word? I don’t know, but he’s fucking hot.  _ He smiles to cover up his racing thoughts. 

Carlos smiles back. “So, we are going to dinner,” he says, “and then, guess what?”

“What?”

“Nicola is still having her party. Her parents don’t care I guess. So we will go there, and not a hotel, because I am thinking after a while that maybe you might like it more to go there?”

Lando is relieved, and he knows Carlos can see it, so he says quickly, “I...I guess I just think it’s easier that way, you know? Lots of people about.” He cringes inwardly, because he knows that doesn’t explain anything, but he doesn’t know what else to say. 

Carlos doesn’t seem phased, however. He just reaches over and pats Lando’s hand. “It’s okay. Let’s have some dinner first, right?”

Lando nods and takes ahold of Carlos’ hand and keeps hold of it the whole way to the restaurant.

**********************************

Carlos takes him to a quiet Italian place and they sit and eat in the low dinner lights. They laugh because the greeter offers Carlos wine, even though he’s not of legal age, and later the waiter seems to be trying to figure out what kind of relationship they have. It seems to click for him when Carlos snakes his hand across the table and holds Lando’s hand just like that, in the open on the white table cloth.

Lando thinks he might die of happiness.

It feels so different to be here, sitting in this restaurant, being a couple, while at school it’s a secret from everyone.  _ It’s better this way _ , Lando thinks, but he knows that Carlos can’t risk being out in front of everyone yet, and he won’t push him.  _ It’s not like my parents would somehow approve of Carlos either,  _ he remembers sadly. But he pushes that aside and determines to focus on enjoying the evening.

When Carlos has paid the tab, and (despite Lando’s offer) got the tip as well, they walk outside together, hand in hand. It’s chilly, but it’s clear, and Lando can see the stars even though the city lights are bright. He looks up at them, and Carlos notices and says just above a whisper, “They’ll be brighter out of town at Nicola’s.”

And Lando shivers involuntarily. 

The drive is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Carlos plays spanish music on the radio, and Lando doesn’t understand any of it, but he thinks it sounds nice. 

Tentatively, he leans over and rests his head on Carlos’ shoulder as he drives, as nervous as if he hadn’t done the same thing a million times, and Carlos smiles at him and leaves a light, quick kiss on his forehead, eyes barely leaving the road.

Nicola’s house is lit up so brightly that Lando knows which one it must be before Carlos even turns down the drive and parks by the side of the road. 

“I’ve never been here,” He says out loud for no particular reason. 

“It’s okay,” Carlos reassures him. “I have, and trust me, they will not even know we are here. There are so many people and they are all drunk, so they will not pay attention.”

Lando just nods and gets out to join Carlos as they walk up to the house and let themselves in the side door. 

They are greeted by loud music and a complete jumble of voices and laughter. Taken aback, Lando looks around the room. A large leather sectional is facing a massive TV, and it’s crowded with people drinking, and laughing, and talking. Folding chairs and another smaller sofa are also full, and a card table that’s set up against one wall has an assortment of empty cans, red plastic cups, and other junk strewn over it. Lando is frozen in place, not sure where to go or what to do and overwhelmed by the noise.

Someone is smacking Carlos on the shoulder, and Carlos is laughing. “Hey, hey Hulk! Long time no see.”

“Sup, Chili,” the tall blond replies. His eyes are a very bright blue and Lando feels even shorter than usual standing next to him. “Who’s this?” The kid asks, waving a hand at Lando.

“Lando, my friend, meet my old buddy Hulk,” Carlos says, giving Hulk a fistbump. “Hulk, meet my friend Lando.”

Lando holds out his hand and the blond named Hulk shakes it and smiles. “It’s Nico, actually, but Hulk is fine.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lando says politely, smiling as calmly as possible.

Hulk just laughs and pats him on the shoulder. “You too, Lando. Chili, drink?”

Carlos laughs and shakes his head. “Not yet, gotta stay sober for at least a bit first.”

“Aw, no fun,” Nico says, but he’s laughing. He fist bumps Carlos again. “Hit me up later though, bro.”

“Yeah, I will,” Carlos says, and Nico turns to walk away, but he stops after a few feet and calls out, “Your hair looks as good as ever!” and gives Carlos a thumbs-up. 

Carlos laughs and yells back “You too!” 

Lando looks up at him when Nico is gone and Carlos smiles. “Where do you know him from?” Lando asks, trying to keep the twinge of jealousy he feels from creeping into his voice.

“Oh, we went to middle school together and we both were on the soccer team,” Carlos says carelessly, his hand running over Lando’s shoulders and brushing up and down his back gently. He smiles at Lando and their eyes meet, and Lando feels jittery again. “Are you okay?” Carlos asks with his hand still warm on Lando’s back.

Lando nods, still overwhelmed by the people and the noise, and then he stands on his tiptoes and whispers into Carlos' ear, "Maybe we could go somewhere quieter?" 

Carlos pulls him close and leans down to whisper, "Of course" and his breath brushes against Lando's ear and makes him shiver. Carlos notices it and winks. Lando feels lightheaded, but he doesn't have time to start overthinking things again because Carlos is pulling him by his arm across the room and Lando has to hurry to keep up with him. 

"Do you know where you're going?" He asks, but Carlos either doesn't hear or doesn't answer, and he doesn't let go of Lando's arm either, so Lando just jogs along after him. 

Carlos opens a door, revealing stairs. "Let's go up to the main floor and look around," he says, and he tugs at Lando's arm before starting upwards. Lando climbs behind him, hearing the sounds from above him get louder while the people below sound distant. 

The top of the stairs opens into the kitchen, and there are plenty of people laughing and drinking and chattering about, but Carlos doesn't pay attention to them, instead he puts an arm around Lando's shoulders, casual as anything, and guides him around the corner to another flight of stairs. 

"Bedrooms," he whispers against Lando's ear, and Lando has chills again. "It'll be quieter up there, hm?"

Lando hesitates, though he's not sure why. _Does Carlos...I mean, fuck, it's Carlos...and he's older..._

Carlos is looking at him. "Lando? You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Lando says quickly, because he really wants to do this, he doesn't want Carlos to think he doesn't, even though he's aware that they've never exactly defined what _this _would be. 

"Come on," Carlos says, and he gently pushes Lando ahead of him up the stairs to the considerably more quiet third floor. The hall lights aren't on, and there seems to be no one around. Lando is relieved that the ruckus from downstairs has faded, but he looks around, unsure of what to do. 

Carlos isn't unsure, though. He pushes open a door into what looks like a bland, average hotel bedroom. "Score, guestroom!" He hisses, and pumps his fist in the air. Lando giggles in spite of himself, and follows Carlos inside. 

Carlos closes the door behind them and locks it before he turns around to Lando and winks in the dusk light that comes in from the window. It's almost dark, but not quite, and Lando flops down on the bed and kicks his shoes off. Carlos follows suit and sits down on the foot of the bed, looking at Lando carefully.

"What?" Lando asks, trying to mask the nervousness he feels right now. It's not like he hasn't been alone with Carlos so many times already, but this is new, different, uncharted territory, and Lando feels even more awkward and unprepared than usual.

"Come here," Carlos says, voice low, and he opens his arms and gestures to come closer. Lando scoots across the bed and slides next to Carlos, but Carlos reaches out and pulls him into his lap, and Lando has never felt so small in his life, but also he's never been happier about being small either. _Carlos is so warm and soft. _Tentatively, Lando rests his head against Carlos' chest and Carlos wraps his arms around him and settles his chin onto Lando's head. "Hey, baby," he whispers, and Lando wiggles enough to put his arms around Carlos' waist. 

"Hey you," he whispers, and he can feel Carlos smiling into his hair. _He's so close, and I don't have to worry that someone will see._

"You know I just want to be close to you, right?" Carlos whispers, his hands running back and forth over Lando's shoulders. "I like being with you."

Lando breathes deeply, calming himself and feeling somewhat normal for the first time in the evening. "I know, you dork," he whispers. 

Carlos chuckles.  "Okay, you little weirdo."  Lando jerks his head up indignantly and makes a face at Carlos, who just smirks. "It's true, you are a weirdo." 

"Fuck off," Lando mutters, and gives him a little push. They both fall over onto the bed, Carlos pulling Lando with him, and they lay facing each other, and suddenly Lando decides he knows what he wants, and he reaches out and pulls Carlos to him and kisses him, like he's done a million times in Carlos' car or in the janitor's closet at school.

But it feels different now, more explosive, more unrestrained, and when Carlos kisses him back, he knows he's a lost cause. _Fuck, we've been wasting time. Should've done this a long time ago. _So in the spirit of not wasting any more time, Lando fights back with another deep, reckless kiss, and Carlos meets it, and Lando opens his mouth almost without thinking or realizing, and he fights back a moan, because Carlos is pressing on top of him now, and _Carlos is a fucking good kisser. _And up until now, Lando thought he knew that, but now he knows that for all the stolen makeout sessions they'd had in closets and bathrooms at school, he's never realized Carlos could kiss like _this. _

He loses all track of time and awareness as they make out on the bed, Carlos on top of him, tangling his careful hands into Lando's curls, messing up all the hard work Lando had put in to make them stay in place, but Lando _doesn't fucking care, he can mess it up anytime. _Lando has his hands on Carlos' shoulders, eyes closed, and he can do nothing to stop Carlos when Carlos suddenly swaps their places and pulls Lando on top of him. Lando whines at first, because he likes it when Carlos takes control. Then he realizes that just because he's on top of Carlos now doesn't mean he has any more control than he did before when Carlos pulls him in with his hand on the back of his head and keeps kissing him.

Lando balls his fists into Carlos' shirt and tries to regain control, but Carlos suddenly catches Lando's lower lip with his teeth and ever so lightly nips at it, and Lando is done for. He's extremely conscious of his hard-on for the first time, even though he knows it's been there for a while, and the way Carlos bites at his lip makes him throb. "Fuck," he hisses without meaning to, and he can feel Carlos smiling against his lips. Carlos pushes him down onto the mattress and Lando breathes heavily as Carlos kneels over him and leans down to kiss him some more. 

But before he can, Lando reaches down and pulls off his own shirt, surprising both of them. Carlos laughs softly. 

"What?" Lando whispers cheekily. "I was hot."

"Yeah, you are hot," Carlos whispers without a trace of irony, and Lando huffs a little and rolls his eyes. 

"Then do something about it," he mumbles, shocking himself again with his own boldness. But then again, _it's not like I haven't been thinking about this forever._

Carlos runs his hands over Lando's chest and his hands aren't cold, but Lando still shivers. "Don't worry," Carlos leans down to whisper against Lando's ear. "I will."

Lando sucks in a breath and Carlos grins and runs his fingers over Lando's bare skin again, down to the waist of his jeans, and Lando twitches underneath. "You should take your shirt off too," he teases Carlos, and Carlos laughs again and complies, tossing his shirt to the side like Lando, and Lando looks up at him admiringly. 

"Fuck, you're hot," he murmurs immediately, even though it's not like he didn't already know that. It just seems more vivid like this, lying flat on his back on the bed with Carlos' bare torso on display above him. Lando can't resist reaching up and running his fingernails over it, tracing the lines of muscle that make Carlos look so good. Lines of muscle that Lando himself does not have, at least, not like that. 

Carlos groans quietly, and Lando can see that he enjoys the attention, so he looks up into Carlos' dark eyes and asks in what he hopes is a dirty whisper, "So, what do you want to do now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't get it all in this chapter, it was just getting longer and I ran out of time to add more, but don't worry, the rest will come soon, it's in the works.   
Thanks for reading and I hope you still enjoyed it. I appreciate those of you who still follow this very dodgy crack fic. 
> 
> As usual, it's bloody fictional.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems like I'm always apologizing for the delay in releasing more chapters. Sheesh.
> 
> And yeah this starts with a Sexy Scene so you have Officially Been Warned.

Carlos is looking at Lando like he doesn't have any idea how to respond. He runs his tongue over his lips and laughs a little before he whispers, "Uh, everything?"

Lando grins and kisses him again, feeling less nervous and more confident now that they were alone, and he wiggles out from under Carlos and pushes him over instead, wrestling him as best he can to the bed, laughing as Carlos grunts and tries to tickle him in defense. 

Lando gets his hands on the waistband of Carlos' jeans and pull at them, bringing them down with some struggle, and without meaning to, he brings Carlos' boxers down with them, tossing the whole lot onto the floor and letting out an unintentional gasp at getting the full view. He looks up at Carlos and runs his hands up his bare thighs and strokes over his erection carefully, curious and eager. 

A slight twinge on Carlos' face catches his eye, and he looks up at him again to see that Carlos looks a little awkward and shy. It's a surprise, and Lando pauses his touches to make his way back up to Carlos' lips and kiss them again. "Is everything okay?" He whispers, eyes wide. _I'm the younger one, and here he is being the more nervous one. I guess he must really feel something. _

"Yes, it's just...fuck, Lando, I've never done this, you know. Not with a guy."

Lando raises his eyebrows, sure that Carlos is pulling something on him. Yes, they're only a few years apart, but Carlos is older, and well, _I've done it, surely he's not serious._ But Carlos' eyes are earnest and Lando can feel him tensing up and his eyes flick away in embarrassment. 

"You must think I'm an idiot," he whispers, reaching up to rub his face with a hand. 

"No," Lando says immediately, running his fingers through the soft, dark hair he loves so much. "No, you're not an idiot, it's okay. I'm glad you told me."

Carlos just sighs and avoids eye contact. "I know you've...done more though, which is a bit weird I guess, but..."

"I haven't done much," Lando admits quietly. "I mean, I hooked up with this guy in my dorm at camp last summer, a couple times, but that's...pretty much it." 

"Mm," Carlos says, still not looking at him. 

Lando pries Carlos' hands away from his face and pins them to the bed with a sudden burst of energy, and he makes Carlos look at him. "Carlos, seriously. It's not a big deal. Besides...I'd like to figure it out with you together..." and he swallows hard. 

"Of course," Carlos whispers, shaking himself out of it. "And I...would like that too."

Lando smiles and kisses him again, feeling Carlos' tongue on his lips, but he doesn't release Carlos arms until Carlos struggles out of his grip and startles him by climbing off the bed. His eyes are wide and his lips are wet and his hair is all mussed up and wildly out of place, and he looks a bit nervous still, but he looks at Lando and says quietly, "I want you to show me how to blow you."

_Fucking hell, _Lando swears he could be having a heart attack right now and it would feel no different. "Fuck, Carlos, I..." But Carlos is already on his knees, pulling at Lando's legs until he's sitting on the edge of the bed, and Lando only has time to reach out and get one hand in Carlos' messy hair before Carlos is fiddling with his jeans. When he gets them off, he looks up at Lando for a half second, opens his mouth, and slides it around Lando's hard-on.

Lando lets out a ragged moan that he knows can be heard elsewhere in the house, but he doesn't care. "Carlos, Carlos, ahhhh, ah, fuck yeah," he mumbles incoherently as Carlos gently slides his mouth up and down around Lando, painfully slow and certainly not enough. Carlos looks up at him, wide brown eyes seeming to ask for direction, and Lando has no idea how anything could be more sexy. 

"Use your...ah, tongue," he pants, and then whimpers as Carlos does and he feels it run around the sensitive head of his dick. "Ahaa, yeah, like that baby." 

Carlos looks pleased at the encouragement and goes at it some more, using his tongue in an inexperienced, but still wildly sexy, manner. Lando uses his hold in Carlos' hair to push him down on his cock at little faster, and Carlos takes the hint, not gagging but increasing the speed. 

"Suck a little harder," Lando gasps, not because it doesn't feel good already but because there's a little part of him that enjoys this, enjoys telling Carlos how to pleasure him, especially when Carlos listens so astutely and obeys, tightening his mouth around Lando's cock and sucking more enthusiastically. 

The sight of Carlos' eyes looking up at him adoringly, his mouth full of Lando's dick and his own hard-on clearly visible, is way more than any teenager can take, _especially since I've been fucking picturing this and it's goddamn perfect, fuck, fuck. _Lando knows he's too young to expect stamina in bed, but he still isn't prepared for how fast Carlos takes care of him and his thighs clench suddenly and he whines as he comes, unable even to warn Carlos. He gasps helplessly instead as he fills Carlos' mouth with cum and spills it over his cheek and face as well. 

Carlos grimaces and grabs for the tissue box on the nightstand, spitting into it and wiping it all off of his face and lips. Lando doesn't care, he's flopped backwards to lie sprawled out on the bed and he's still whimpering to himself, hand on his dick trying to calm himself down. 

He turns his head when Carlos sits down next to him, his bare cock obviously still standing at attention. "Fuck," he moans, and Carlos bends down to kiss him, over and over, and Lando hangs onto him tightly. "That was fucking amazing," he murmurs. 

Carlos smiles, kisses his forehead, and moves to lie down next to him, but Lando sits up with difficulty, groaning a bit, and he maneuvers himself between Carlos' legs. Carlos is watching him, eyes barely blinking, and Lando winks at him. 

"Lay down," he says, giving Carlos a one handed shove backwards so the he was lying flat on the bed. Carlos moaned as he felt Lando get his hand close to his throbbing dick, but Lando didn't touch yet, he laid himself down between Carlos' legs and planted kisses up and down his thighs first, nibbling here and there and bringing out whimpers at that from his boyfriend. 

"Lando, jeez, come on," he groans, trying to reach his hand down and do it himself. Lando bats his hand away quickly and makes sure Carlos watches as he lowers his mouth towards his dick, puts it almost in his mouth, and then licks a stripe down it instead. Carlos flinches and actually whines at him, frustration and lust both making him insistent. 

So Lando obliges, takes a steadying breath, and swallows as much of Carlos' larger cock as he can in one go. He's pleased by the reaction it causes; Carlos throws his hands into Lando's curls and groans so much that Lando can feel the vibrations. Encouraged, Lando goes for more, taking Carlos almost all the way into his throat, eyes watering and jaw aching, but basking in the warm feeling of _doing this with Carlos _and focused on bringing him as much pleasure as he can. He repeats it, over and over, eyes closed even though he wants to see Carlos. They're watering so much he can't hardly open them anyway, and he's almost choking himself, but he remembers his family making jokes about how good he would be at sword swallowing as a career and he feels that this is much more satisfactory.

Clearly Carlos is enjoying himself, making all kinds of noise, but unlike Lando, he manages to warn Lando when he's about to climax and Lando pulls off just in time to get a face full of cum. That seems to be not an unwelcome site to Carlos because he takes several long seconds to get any tissues and Lando can feel him squeezing the drops out of his dick right next to his face. 

He doesn't mind though. He's unbelievably tired after everything, the insomnia of the morning, school, dinner, sex with Carlos...fuck, it's been a great day, but he's beat, and Carlos clearly concurs. He flops down sideways on the bed next to Lando and they kiss, lazily, winding down after everything. Lando looks at Carlos and smirks. 

"So, how was your first time giving a blowjob?" He asks, giggling. 

"Shut up," Carlos replies, ruffling his hair. 

Lando wraps his arms around Carlos and buries his face in his chest and does shut up because it's _so nice being here with Carlos, no one knows where we are, no one can walk in on us, and neither of our parents will find out. It's so nice to just lay here and not be afraid. I wish things didn't have to be a secret between us._

Carlos pulls Lando even closer and holds him tightly, and whispers something in Spanish in his ear, and Lando relaxes into his hold and just breathes freely, letting himself drift off to sleep in this room alone with Carlos.

******************************************

It ends up that Alex doesn't see George until Monday morning, because George's mom insists that he stays home and attends some family thing on Saturday and then Alex himself remembers that he has an out of town soccer game on Sunday. He debates texting George about seeing Romain, but he decides against it. Instead, they share a few lighthearted snapchats and George whines about being bored as hell at this "family potluck or whatever it is." The soccer team loses the game on Sunday and Alex texts George about how shitty it was playing in the mud as he rides home on the athletic team bus. 

They don't get back from the game until late. His mom is home and she talks about changing shifts, but he doesn't really listen, he's tired and honestly he's out of energy to care about whatever his parents decide to do. _I just wish they'd get on with it, _he thinks tiredly, sitting at the table and eating a sandwich as his mother talks. But he does wait until she's finished her sentence to say, "hey mom, I'm super tired, I'm gonna head to bed."

And she blinks at him as if confused before realizing what time it is, and saying quickly, "Oh. Yes, of course honey. You should get some sleep."

"Night mom."

"Night honey," she says. He forces a smile.

Upstairs in his room, he drops onto his bed and tries to sort out his thoughts, but they're all tangled up, so he goes about his nightly routine. When he's done and back in his room, sitting in his shorts on the edge of his bed, he finds his phone again and checks it. There's a text from George.

**Let me know when you're home safely.**

It makes Alex feel inexplicably warm and he smiles to himself like an idiot before texting back. **Hey, I made it back. You're probably asleep so see you in school tomorrow.**

He plugs the phone in and flicks off the light, covers himself with the blanket, and tries to sleep.

The phone buzzes unexpectedly on the bedside table and he sits up and checks it. _Weird, George is usually quick to fall asleep. _But he's clearly not asleep because the text reads, **ok good. Can't sleep yet.**

**Me either,** Alex replies. **What's up with you? You can usually sleep anywhere and anytime. **He remembers how often George has fallen asleep on school outings and trips and how he used to hide in the mop closet in middle school and take a nap instead of going to PE. It took them months to realize he wasn't there, and even then they never figured out that he'd skipped more than just one day. _Of course, he owes that to me signing his name on the PE sheets all the time. _And he smiles to himself.

**Who knows. WbU? **

Alex debates what to reply and finally goes with **Just too keyed up from the game. Wanna play some xbox? **

George answers quickly. **Yep, I'll call you on my headset gimme a min.**

Alex turns on his xbox, turns the sound all the way down just in case, and grabs his gaming headphones off their charger. He doesn't really want to play games, but he does feel this strange desire to hear George's voice and he doesn't want to lay in bed staring at the ceiling unable to sleep either.

George calls him over xbox live a few minutes later and Alex taps the answer button on his headset. "Hey."

"Hey," George says, and his voice sounds too far away, but it's better than nothing. 

"What's up?" Alex asks, messing around with his controller. 

"Nothing," George says, and he sounds tired. "What game do you wanna play?"

"I dunno, what do you think? You sound tired though, you sure you shouldn't just go pass out?"

He can almost hear George yawn, but he's not sure. "No, I'm awake, you know, I'm tired, but can't sleep? That kind of thing."

"Same here," Alex answers, feeling bad for George. "You know why you can't sleep? I mean, that's not normally an issue for you."

George laughs a little. "Nah, I dunno man, just a weird night I guess. Sorry your game sucked today."

"It happens. Halo?" 

"Sure."

Alex loads the game and they start out on a map they've both played a hundred times, Alex barely paying attention to it as he listens to George's breathing. "What did you do today?" He asks, wanting to break the silence, wanting to hear George's voice. 

"Not really anything," George says, and it sounds like he yawns at the end of the words. "Went for a run, you know, that sort of thing."

_He sounds tired. _"George, are you sure you don't want to get some sleep?" 

"No," George says. "I'm good, let's just stay up for a while." There's a sound like munching on something and drinking something. 

Alex forces himself not to smile. "Okay man."

They play in silence for a while, murmured commands and warnings the only sound between them. Alex feels calmer, strangely so. George dies again. He's not playing well, and Alex himself isn't doing so great either. _Honestly, I don't even want to play. I just want to talk to George. Would it be weird to ask him if he just wants to Facetime?_

He considers this while George respawns and they continue trying to shoot their way through another death trap. This time, it's Alex himself who dies, and he sighs, he decides _fuck it, I'll just ask him._

"Hey George, I'm kinda tired of playing. You want to..." He swallows. "Just facetime or something?"

George assents rather quickly.

Alex feels relieved. "Okay, just a sec." He hangs up the call, shuts off the xbox, and puts the headset away, gets into bed, and stares at his phone. He wants to press the call button, he wants to call George and hear his voice and see his face, but the very strong desire makes him a bit nervous too, because he's not sure when he started to feel so needy. He's not sure why he can't shake the feeling the past few days of how nice it felt to be in George's arms. Despite how he's always felt about George, how much he's always cared for him, it's not until the past few days that he's felt like it actually had a ghost of a chance of happening. _Not that I would say anything, but this is good. This is nice. _

His thought process is interrupted by an incoming facetime call from George. He answers it immediately. "Hey."

George is lying in bed, hair tousled, eyes looking tired and bleary. But he smiles and murmurs, "Hey Alex."

_He's adorable. _"You look so tired. You should sleep."

"I'm not tired," George says. "How are you? Are you okay?" 

"Liar," Alex says, but he smiles. "I'm okay. Listen, you don't have to stay up. I'm getting more tired now."

"No, it's okay," George insists, shifting on his pillow in the dim night of his bedroom. Alex catches sight of something on the far side of the room, sitting on the dresser. 

"George," he says, watching his friend's face through the phone. "Why is there a can of monster on your dresser?" 

George blinks, clearly caught out, and he says, "It was from earlier."

But Alex has known him for years and years, and he doesn't believe it at all. "George."

George avoids his eyes. 

"George," Alex repeats. 

"Okay fine," George sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "I drank a monster so I could make sure I was awake so I knew you got home okay." 

_Oh my god. _Alex's heart is pounding, he can feel his face wildly grinning and he can't do anything to stop it. He's overwhelmed in this instant by how much he absolutely loves this silly, ridiculous person who's always been there and always had his back and whom he can't imagine not knowing. _Be cool, you don't know how he means that, of course he cares, he's your best friend. _"Aww, you're sweet," he says out loud, a little teasing, meaning it lightheartedly, but also definitely sincere. 

And George _fucking blushes._

_Am I seeing shit? _ Alex checks again, but _he is, he's totally blushing _and Alex wishes he could reach through the phone and...do what? He doesn't know, he just wishes George were closer. "You should sleep," he says aloud, smiling at George's sleepy face. "It's okay."

"You should too," George argues, and his eyes are drooping shut. 

Alex smiles to himself. "I will, don't worry."

George's eyes shut and Alex thinks he's asleep, but he can't bring himself to hang up. He watches George sleeping, his lids fluttering a bit, the phone sliding down in his hands. He feels his own body relaxing, calming, he feels his eyes getting heavier. He props up the phone against a pillow and turns sideways so he can see George as he starts to fall asleep. 

He's sure George is out, but then right when he's about to fall asleep, George stirs and opens his eyes and murmurs, "Don't go."

"I won't go," Alex reassures him quickly, even though he can see that George is falling back asleep. George smiles, eyes closed, and then he really is asleep.

Alex finds himself drifting off as well, a smile still lingering on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this fictional work even though it's literally a wreck and I don't know why anyone enjoys it, but I try my best so thanks ya'll. Hopefully more soon(ish).


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, dudes, I am alive. How about that? 
> 
> I am having trouble with this right now just because I suck at chapter things and also been having it out with seasonal depression lately, so jolly good and fun.  
But, I'm not a quitter, and I'll still keep trying to put this out there whenever possible. Thanks for being so polite and patient and not too tough on my writing in this one.

Max wakes up Monday morning feeling exhausted like he has almost every morning recently. It’s hard to sleep when he keeps having nightmares that involve Charles telling absolutely everyone about their little... _ incident... _ the other day. In his waking hours, he’s able to push it away, but as soon as he starts to fall asleep, the anxiety becomes overwhelming and he feels paralyzed by fear. He’s tried to think of what he would do if Charles did tell, and he thinks he’d just deny it and keep denying it, but he’s not sure if that would be enough. 

_ Well, Charles is an outcast and I’m quarterback of the football team. People wouldn’t even listen to him anyway,  _ he tries to comfort himself, and while he knows it’s true, he can’t help feeling guilty for even thinking about treating Charles like that.  _ But if he says anything, he deserves whatever comes to him. _

Max drags himself out of bed to get ready for school.

Right from the start, Max thinks it’s likely to be a bad day. He sits down in the back row of Horner’s class and puts his face into his arms on his desk, eyes closed until he hears Horner clearing his throat for class to begin. When he looks up, he realizes that Charles is sitting next to him on one side and on the other, Esteban.  _ Great.  _ He’s tried avoiding Charles lately, but somehow he didn’t pay enough attention to where he should sit to avoid him in class. Still, he glances sideways at him. Charles is wearing his familiar hoodie with the hood up and hiding his face. Max feels slightly disappointed that he can’t see whether or not Charles is wearing eyeliner today. He notices as he glances down, however, that Charles has painted his fingernails a dark purple today.  _ Wonder if he ran out of black.  _

Esteban sits up in his seat and sighs under his breath before glancing over at Charles and back again toward the front of the class. He smirks a little. Max doesn’t know what to make of it. He tries to pay attention, leaning forward and resting his hand on his chin. Charles is drawing on his notepad like he always does. Time passes slowly.

When Horner finally says, “Class dismissed,” Max doesn’t even have a chance to stand up before it happens. Everyone is rising, moving about, talking loudly as they migrate from the classroom to the hall, and Max is reaching into his backpack to put away his notebook when Esteban’s hand suddenly snakes across his desk and snatches Charles’ notebook off of his desk. Charles makes a grab for it, but he’s not quick enough. Esteban flips through the pages, smirking.

“Fucking give it back,” Charles says, on his feet now and moving towards Ocon. Esteban pretends not to hear and goes on looking through the notebook. Max grabs his backpack and stands up. He’s not sure what, if anything, he should do right now. It’s not like he and Charles are friends really, and it would certainly look odd if he was protective of the goth creep, but also he feels a twinge of pain and guilt, a sense of duty. 

_ Also, what would happen if he got mad at me for not intervening and told?  _

_ But I can’t get involved. It’s too out of place. _

Esteban makes a face. “Ah, this is a nice picture,” he says, mockingly sincere, and Charles grabs for the notebook again. Esteban just laughs and Max watches on, still stuck in place, as Esteban rips a page out of Charles’ notebook. Then another, and another. 

“Stop it!” Charles says, teeth gritted, fists clenched.

Esteban smiles and tears out another page. 

So Charles kicks him, hard, in the shin.

Esteban looks both pained and surprised and lets out a gasp. Max chooses that moment to swing his backpack onto his shoulder, “accidentally” hitting Esteban in the side of the head, momentarily catching him off guard. Charles jerks the notebook forcefully out of Esteban’s hands, frantically picks up the torn pages, and retreats quickly out of the room. 

“Sorry,” Max says, not meaning it at all, and he follows Charles out into the hallway. Charles is gone.

_ Just as well. Didn’t want him being weird about it or anything. _

Max continues to his next class, trying not to search for Charles as he walks, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t see him anyway.

*********************************

George is earlier than usual this morning, even given his late night and his Monster energy drink. He has no intention of admitting it, but he really just wants to see Alex. Last night was... _ weird? Sweet? Adorable? Awkward?  _ He doesn’t know, but he feels anxious about it, nervous that something that intimate might be strange for Alex, or that Alex might be feeling odd about it, and he knows that the only thing that will make it okay is seeing him in person and proving to himself that everything is all good. 

To his surprise, Alex is early too. Not as early as he is, but he's only been waiting a few minutes when Alex walks in, looking surprisingly well rested given what he knows was a late night. 

George has a sudden attack of nerves as he watches Alex weaving through the groups of students in the entryway, coming towards him. _You fucking idiot, it's Alex._

"Hey," Alex says, and grins, and it's just like every other morning on every other day since George can remember, and yet somehow _it's not. _He doesn't know why he thinks this, but he does.

"Hey," he says, smiling back, trying to stifle the even larger smile that's trying to make its way to the surface. "Sorry I fell asleep last night."

Alex nudges his arm gently. "Don't apologize. Thanks for talking to me even though it was so late." 

George is certain his face must be reddening again, but he tries to be cool. "It's no big deal mate." But Alex is looking at him with bright eyes that know too much, and George is _fucking sure_ Alex knows something. He avoids the look by checking his watch. "Damn, we're fifteen minutes early for Horner's class, what the fuck is wrong with us?"

Alex laughs. "I have no idea, we must be crazy. It's too early to go sit in there anyway." He groans and runs his fingers through his messy hair. "I ought to go fix this crap, I suppose."

"It does have more of the "just rolled out of bed" look than you usually can pull off," George cracks, following him down the hall towards the bathrooms. 

Alex turns to face him, walking backwards. "Hey, that "just rolled out of bed" look is sexy!"

_ Fucking hell.  _ George just snorts and rolls his eyes, unable to think of an honest comeback. 

Alex laughs at him. "You're just jealous that you can't pull it off."

"Any idiot can pull it off, that's the problem," George argues, "all you have to do is roll out of bed, and we all do that!"

Alex opens the door to the bathroom and George follows him in. "Of course, any peasant can roll out of bed," he says grandly, stopping in front of the sinks and the long mirror, "but it takes skill to create that perfect look, the carefully-created-messy-look, the I-Woke-Up-Like-This-Look-"

"-that takes you a hour to do," George finishes, laughing at him.

Alex glares at him with pretend rage and throws his arms out wide, gesturing expressively.  "Yes of course but you never admit that part!" 

George just laughs and shakes his head again as Alex slides his backpack off his shoulders and unzips it. He removes some gel and begins to do his hair. George can't help watching the simple routine, something he knows he's seen Alex do after gym a thousand times and at his own house and at summer camps and a million other places in the past few years, but he's never really watched like this. He's never watched the way Alex's fingers move nimbly through his hair or the way his eyebrows knit when he's focusing on the task, perfecting every detail. 

Alex's eyes suddenly dart sideways and he catches George watching him intently. George looks away quickly, heart speeding up. 

"What's up?" Alex asks, eyebrows furrowing together again as he looks at George in the mirror. 

"Oh nothing, just thinking how mad you would be if I suddenly decided to mess up your hair again."

Alex's eyes grow wide and he whirls around to make a face at George, shaking his finger, "Uh-uh, don't even think about it."

"I won't, I won't," George laughs, and Alex almost cracks a smile as he tries to stare George down for another few seconds before he turns back to put the finishing touches on his hair. He's trying to make the last few fly-aways tame down, tongue jutting out just slightly, brows firmly knit together, when it happens. George doesn't plan it, doesn't think it, doesn't realize he's going to do it until it's too late and his hand is flying out and running through Alex's hair quickly, tousling it, undoing the work. 

"Hey!" Alex yells out, and he turns around, grabbing for George, who ducks away from his hand and darts to the far wall, laughing with the surprise and exhilaration of _being like this, playing like this, like us. _"Now you're gonna get it," Alex swears, but he's enjoying this, goofing around, and George knows it.

"Yeah, okay, but first I'll have to wait another hour while you fix your bedhead again," George taunts, but he's unprepared when Alex lunges for him and despite his attempt to dodge, Alex catches a hold of his wrist. Laughing, George struggles against it, but Alex is strong and hangs on, despite his own laughter. 

"What was that shit you were talking?" He mocks teasingly, pretending to think. "Oh yeah, something about an hour?" 

George is laughing too much to reply though, because Alex is snaking his hand over to him and tickling him roughly, laughing gleefully as George struggles. "What's that? I can't understand you."

"I...you...I...hey, stop, Alex...hey! Can't breathe!" George gasps through giggles, and Alex does stop, reluctantly drawing his hand back and laughing at him. 

"It's only fair if I get to mess up your hair now," Alex says pretend-spitefully, but there's something else in it too. 

George opens his mouth and before he can think, he says, "Well, maybe in the bedroom, dear."  And he freezes, not even sure what he's done, the thoughts racing in his head so fast that the only thing he knows for sure is that _god,_ _I __really need to get my mind out of the gutter. Now I've done it._

Alex is close, so close, and George knew that before, but hhe _really _knows it now. His jaw works up and down and finally he comes out with a very eloquent "Fuck, um, I..."  But he doesn't finish because he can't figure out what he's trying to say. 

Alex's eyes are laughing at him still. "Oh, really, dear?" 

George laughs, tries to meet Alex's eyes, to continue the joke, play it off like usual, but he can feel Alex's hand shaking just slightly where it's holding his wrist and he's not sure if it's real or in his mind, but he thinks he can feel Alex's breath on his face, and _it's so hard to keep this up. So fucking hard to pretend. _George doesn't know if it's because he's running on low sleep or because he finished the monster energy drink this morning or what is wrong with him, really, but he's sick of this, _sick of pretending, I can't keep having him so close and so far._

He meets Alex's eyes, and something there makes him feel like it's going to be okay, that he's not about to step off a cliff. He doesn't know what to say, or how to say it. Honestly he's only ever kissed someone a couple times and he was drunk for those. And he's definitely not drunk now. _Maybe I should be, but it's too late now. _

He decides to test the whole thing, decides he can't go off the cliff all at once, so he reaches out and cups a hand around Alex's cheek and chin. 

He can feel the way Alex loosens and his grip goes slack immediately, his eyes fixed on George, and _slowly, _or what feels like _very slowly, _George brings him closer and closer until he's able to lean up and catch Alex's lips ever so lightly. 

He feels the breath that Alex lets out against him, and then, as the fleeting awkward initial half-second vanishes, Alex presses back against him and they meet, strength on strength together, _magnets pulling to connect_ George thinks, and he decides that the time has finally come to abandon everything and hope that when he hits the bottom of the cliff, it won't be half as bad as he's been fearing for so many years. 

He thinks it's a good bet that, the way Alex's lips feel, the cliff he's been worrying about all this time never really existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a longer chapter planned but I just wanted to post this already and get it done, so hopefully more before too long. Sorry for the long breaks and the unpredictable post schedule and the shortness of this chapter.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I give up apologizing, so I'm just gonna say I'm doing my best to update and I'm still here, just in constant rotating phases of dormant.

When they pull apart, George feels like time must've stopped for him. He's still reeling, still trying to get a handle on what just happened. 

Alex is looking at him, eyes bright, so close, and George knows he's not imagining the fact that he can feel Alex's breath on his cheek. "Hey," Alex whispers, awkward, clumsy, _the most Alex thing he could say right now- _

And George laughs, all the anxiety of the moment falling away as he wraps an arm around this awkward, goofy human he's known for so long. "Hey," he whispers back, and Alex blushes and rolls his eyes. 

"Okay, yes, I know, but nothing else came to mind!"

George just laughs again and leans tentatively against Alex's shoulder, shaking his head. "Alex Albon, always so good with words," he says against Alex's shirt sleeve. 

"Shush," Alex chides him, but he pulls George against him ever so casually, and George just lets himself breathe in and out against Alex's shirt. He darts a glance at Alex's lips, _fuck, wouldn't mind kissing him again right now...cool it, George, just because he didn't smack you doesn't mean everything's all cool and chill okay, slow your roll. _And then Alex lays his cheek against the top of George's head and rests it there, and George can barely breathe because he's never thought in the years he's spent pining over his fucking best friend that this would just fucking happen one day like a magical wish.

He's pretty sure it can't be real. But the way Alex's hair is tickling his forehead and the weight of his head resting on George's feels real. _My breathing feels real. I can feel him breathing, that seems real._

The door of the bathroom banging open seals the reality of it for George. 

They spring apart, and before the person entering the room has even rounded the corner, George has let Alex drag him into one of the bathroom stalls and close the door and they're standing there quietly, looking at each other wide-eyed. George has a sudden temptation to reach for Alex's hand, just _to see if I can, _but he doesn't. They wait while whoever is in the bathroom whistles some very offkey tune and fucks around at the sink, running water, fixing hair...

Alex puts his eye against the crack in the bathroom stall door and then leans away from it quickly and looks back at George, mouthing "Daniel!" 

George rolls his eyes. Alex pinches his lips to keep from chuckling. 

Daniel is yodeling now and Alex stuffs his hand over his mouth to keep quiet and the sight is so funny that George has to cover his own mouth to keep silent as well. Daniel takes what seems like _absolute years _ to do whatever he's doing, and just when George starts to think he won't finish this month, he turns off the water, and still yodeling obnoxiously, leaves the bathroom. 

They both let out a breath and George looks at his watch, "Shit, let's go, we're going to be late for-"

And the door bangs open again and Alex puts a hand over his lips before he can finish. _Jesus christ, who is it now? __And this would be nice in the bedroom, actually, but right now is not ideal..._

Alex makes a face like he can hear what George is thinking, and George decides he wouldn't be that surprised if Alex could do something of the kind after all these years. 

This person has music playing too loud from headphones, _so loud they must be fucking deaf, damn, _and George gestures at Alex to see who it is this time. Alex looks quickly and pulls back, eyes huge, and puts a finger to his lips sternly before mouthing soundlessly, "_Checo!" _

"Fuck," George mouths back at him, mimicking slapping himself in the face. Alex nods vigorously, and when George points to his watch insistantly, nerves starting to set in, Alex nods impatiently and makes a face that clearly says _I know, okay?__? There's nothing I can do! _

George just nods agreeably, _yes I know, okay, I'm just saying. _

And then Alex does what George decided against doing only a few minutes earlier when Daniel was in the room and reaches out to graze the back of George's hand with his fingers. George turns his hand upright and catches Alex's hand in his before he can think better of it, but Alex smiles and squeezes his hand once, twice, three times, and when George doesn't let go, Alex makes no move to take his hand back and just lets George hold it. 

There's a smell in the bathroom suddenly and _dammit Checo, that's not even a bathroom smell, that's a goddamn joint motherfucker, you absolute delinquent _and Alex is miming repeatedly banging his head against the stall door, pinching his nose. 

The door opens again, and they both are still again immediately. 

"Yo, took you long enough," Checo says to whoever it is, and George looks at Alex with a questioning frown, but before Alex can look, the second voice speaks and they both know who it is. 

"Got stuck in the fucking hallway, calm down," says Carlos, and Alex looks at George and George is as surprised as Alex seems to be and shrugs. _Told Lando he was trouble..._but he remembers that Alex doesn't know about any of that shit, which is _not convenient! It would be really helpful if I could ask Alex what he thinks I should do now that I know Carlos is hanging out with Checo, but nooooo, I had to be an idiot and promise not to tell. Fucking swear, Lando, this is the last time I'm promising you anything!_

Alex is looking at him, so George decides to worry about Lando later and pretends to shrug and make a questioning face. Alex shrugs back and indicates that he doesn't know what's going on either.

"Did you think about it?" Checo asks, and he's evidently still puffing away on that damn joint, because the smell surges again and Alex makes a gagging face. 

"Yeah," Carlos says, "and no, I don't want any, thanks. There's no fucking windows in here man, you're going to hotbox the bathroom and get us both in detention."

Checo snorts. "Chill, dude, chill. Listen, _mi amigo, sabemos que eres un maricón y es no problema, no problema, pero __tal vez puedas hacer algo por nosotros?" _

"Fuck you," Carlos says, and he sounds angry. Alex looks at George, clearly wondering if he understood that, and George just shakes his head. 

"Oh, come on now, we're friends! _No seas un idiota, Carlos! Solo un favor rapido, solo uno, no mas. _Okay?"

"_Que es?" _Carlos asks, but he still sounds angry. George got that one, and he can see Alex did too. 

"Just some answers,  _ copias de respuestas de texto de Kimi. No mas."  _

"No fucking way, you're _loco, muy loco, _Checo."

"Nah," Checo says, and he sounds unbothered at being called crazy, and George doubts it's the first time the insult has been given to him. "Come on, _amigo. _Think about it, or you might, you know..._lamento mas tardes, tu comprendo, _Carlos?"

"You're not a mob boss, Checo. Don't be ridiculous," Carlos says, and it sounds like he's leaving _thank goodness, _but Checo says a little louder, " _ piénsalo, no quieres ser chismoso para todos, no?" _

"Yeah, okay, I'll think about it, but you're a fucking dick." And  Carlos slams the door behind him. 

In the bathroom stall, George wants to exhale, but the air is still full of pot smoke and Checo hasn't left. Alex looks similarly restless, but minutes pass slowly before finally they hear water running, shut off, and finally, finally, Checo walks out of the room. 

They open the stall door and hurry out. George looks at his watch. "Alex, we're fucking late, almost half an hour, Horner is going to kill us both."

"Probably," Alex says darkly, pulling his backpack onto his shoulders. "Come on, let's get out of here."

They head for the door, but just before George reaches out to open it, Alex whispers, "wait!" 

George turns around, and before he can move, Alex kisses him, just once, quickly, on the lips. 

Suddenly not concerned about Mr. Horner, George reaches out for more, but Alex shakes his head. "We've got to go. Talk later, okay? You can come over."

"Okay," is all George can say, and he smiles in a way that he's sure is fucking idiotic, but Alex smiles back and gives him a shoulder squeeze on the way out. 

They walk quickly to Horner's class, duck in the back, and find themselves sitting right behind Lando, who ever so helpfully twists around with his nose wrinkled and hisses, "Why do you smell like weed?!" 

George almost has a heart attack, but luckily, no one hears and Alex glares at Lando hard enough to ward him off saying anything more right now. 

Horner glares at them both, each in turn, but he says nothing, and when he's turned back around to write something, George sneaks a look at Alex, who just smiles. 

_ Yeah, everything is okay. _ George tells himself silently. _Okay yeah, it's a c_ _ razy morning so far, and maybe this is a dream, but right now, let's not mess with a good thing.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, I know, but fingers crossed to be back soon with more. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's commented and supported my rambling lump of content, I really do appreciate it and it motivates me to return again more quickly.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I warned you guys this would be slow in updates.

The morning is a blur of classes and lectures, so it isn't until lunchtime, as Alex slides in next to him, that George really processes it again. 

_It's happening. He actually likes me too._

He's been giddy all morning, unable to focus and unconcerned with getting every question on the pop quiz in government wrong, and now Alex is sitting beside him again and he feels awkward, unsure of himself all of the sudden.

But Alex smiles at him and sneaks his hand under the table _like a fucking schoolgirl, oh my god, _and he squeezes George's hand tightly. 

"Hey, how was your morning?" He asks.

And things are normal again. "Oh, you know. Fucking failed the quiz in government."

Alex snorts. "Well, if you ever did the reading for that class you might do better."

"It's so boring! Miles and miles of dry language and huge terms," George complains. "You're smarter than me."

Alex rolls his eyes. "No, you're just unmotivated."

"My mother says that's a synonym for lazy."

"I didn't say that, you did," Alex says mischievously, and George makes a face at him over his sandwich. 

Alex just smiles, and George resists the urge to get closer, to pull Alex towards him, maybe see if they can get away with a quick kiss, but he knows they can't, not here.

"You want to...I dunno, go somewhere else after we eat?" He asks, and Alex clearly catches his meaning. 

"I'd love to. We could..."

"Hey losers, what's up?" Lando interrupts, throwing his backpack down on the bench across the table and sitting down next to it. 

George groans inwardly. 

"Nothing much. How about you and your ugly face?" Alex says, but he's clearly joking.

"Rude," Lando whines. "Have you seen Carlos?" He digs around in his backpack and pulls out a bag of trail mix and shoves some into his mouth. 

"No, why?" Alex asks, his voice sharpening just a little bit. 

"No reason," Lando says, dumping more trail mix into his hand. 

"Liar," George comments, catching Alex's eye for a brief second. _Should we tell him what we overheard? _He wants to ask, but he can't, and besides, he doesn't really know entirely what it was they heard in the first place. It's not like either of them speak much Spanish. 

_Plus, Lando's probably find. I know he's not really doing drugs, so he's probably not really mixed up with Carlos. He's probably just trying to keep up the pretense. _

"Lando," Alex says in a warning tone. "That's bullshit."

George feels a rush of guilt again that he hasn't told Alex what Lando admitted to him, but _I promised I wouldn't. Fuck, though, I really want to tell him._

"Chill, Alex," Lando says, unconcerned. "It's nothing crazy."

"Are you buying more..." and Alex ducks his head and drops his voice to a whisper, "_weed..._from him?"

"Jesus, Alex, you don't have to whisper like you're saying "bomb" in an airport," Lando rolls his eyes. "It's just fucking weed. And I'm not buying it from him, I haven't for a bit, it's not about that."

George picks at his sandwich, but he's listening. He's not sure if Lando is lying or backtracking or what, and it's a little confusing. He's starting to wonder if Lando was lying to him about seeing someone. _Maybe he really is covering up a drug habit, and maybe more than just marijuana...I wish I knew if he was being honest. He's being so weird lately._

"Well," says Alex abruptly, "if I were you, I'd be careful because George and I overheard Carlos talking to Checo this morning in the men's room and it sounds an awful lot like they're selling test scores."

Lando visibly starts and looks from one of them to the other, brow furrowed. "What? I don't think he does that."

"He deals drugs, why not test scores too?" Alex asks. "Just be careful, that's all I'm saying."

Lando looks at George, who wants to avoid his eyes, but forces himself not to. "Is that true, George?"

George just nods, and then quickly adds, "but it was in Spanish a lot of the time so we don't know everything." It sounds lame, and he knows it.

Lando shoves his trail mix back into his bag and zips it. "Carlos isn't even friends with Checo. That doesn't make sense."

"I'm just saying what we heard," Alex answers, a little defensive. "I didn't say we knew all about it. I just thought you should know because I know you...sort of know Carlos, or buy...stuff from him, you know, that's all. I just thought you should know."

George feels caught in the middle as Lando looks at him as if he expects George to contradict what Alex is saying. _But I can't, because it's true._ He meets Lando's eyes, and he hopes Lando can see what he's trying to say.

"Yeah okay. Thanks for letting me know," Lando says quietly, picking up his backpack. "Um, I gotta go, okay? I'll, uh, see you later."

"Uhhhh...okay, bye," Alex says, frowning a little in confusion. 

Lando hurries away and George watches as he leaves the cafeteria altogether. 

"I didn't mean to upset him," Alex says, a little disappointed sounding. "I really didn't, George, I just..."

"I know," George says, and he realizes they're still holding hands under the table. "It's not your fault. I don't know what's up with Lando these days."

Alex shakes his head. "Me either."

_If I told Alex, maybe he would know if Lando was hiding something else? But I promised. I promised._

"You okay?" Alex asks, looking at him worriedly.

"Yeah," George says, and pushes thoughts of Lando away again. "I'm good. Are you done eating? Maybe we could...you know, go somewhere for a few minutes before class starts."

Alex balls up his sandwich immediately and releases George's hand to pick up the trash on their table. "Yep, done."


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, it's alllliiiiive!
> 
> Yeah, no, I'm not dead of corona. I'm sure you were all worried. lol
> 
> Have some fluffy Tall Bois and some angsty Max (so, the usual).

They've barely left the noise of people eating lunch behind when Alex suddenly startles George by grabbing his arm and pulling him around a corner, opening a door, and dragging George inside with him.

Alex closes the door firmly behind him and twists the lock on the doorhandle. "Remember this place?" He asks breathlessly.

"Yeah." George looks around the small maintenance closet and makes a face. "Still smells like bleach in here." But he's not really thinking about the smell; he's too focused on his heartbeat's irregularly fast rhythm. 

"So many times in junior high," Alex reminiscences, leaning against the wall somewhat dramatically, "we'd sneak in here after lunch, make sure to avoid Jensen so he wouldn't tell on us being in this side of the building..."

George rolls his eyes, even though he actually does feel a bit fond as he looks at his _best friend? Longtime crush? ....boyfriend?_

"...we'd just gossip about all the idiots and make fun of our teachers," Alex continues uninterrupted, pouring on the dramatics, "...ahhh, the good old days..."

"That was like three years ago, you dummy," George huffs impatiently. "I didn't think you dragged me in here to recall the ancient times of fucking junior high."

Alex giggles, straight up, and that's when George knows that his friend is nervous too. _Shit, should've known that. Of course he's pulling this goofy act cause of nerves. It's fucking Alex, you know this shit. Get a clue, George._

"What _do_ you think I dragged you in here for?" Alex raises his eyebrows, unconsciously bites his lip. (_or is it consciously?__ Does he know he's cute when he does it?_ )

George stops beating around the bush. "This," he mumbles, and he rests his hands on the wall on either side of Alex's head, and kisses him, not too hard.

Alex exhales against his lips as George starts to pull back, and he seems to unwind, reaching out and wrapping his arms around George's waist and bringing him close again. This time, it's Alex who kisses George, and it's the heaviest kiss so far. George's eyes are closed, but he barely notices because he's lost in the sensation of _finally doing this with Alex, _and in his head he swears he could forget to breathe. 

Alex appears to feel the same, because every time they break apart he's chasing George's lips, hands running up from George's waist and cupping his head to pull him in over and over. George is breathless, exhilarated, wildly eager, _almost desperate_, but then again, George thinks, _Alex wants this just as much. _And it's a warm feeling that absolutely does nothing to slow him down.

"_George_," Alex whispers.

George hmms a reply in between kissing him again. 

"How long have you...you know, liked me?"

George pulls away, just a few inches, though, and meets Alex's eyes. His heartbeat is showing no signs of slowing anytime soon. "Uhh," he stammers, suddenly feeling unusually unsure of himself. "Would it creep you out if I just said...um, forever?"

Alex tilts his head in confusion. "I mean, obviously it can't be forever, I've known you since we were kids, and I'm pretty sure you didn't have a playground crush on me."

George isn't so confident of that, he remembers always picking Alex first for games and always saving candy for him, even lying and claiming he'd already eaten his candy so that Alex would just take the one piece George offered him. He's glad his face is too flushed to show any signs of a blush at that thought. "Umm," he stammers, "I just mean, like, I don't know when it started. I just always remember...liking you."

Alex pulls George into his arms and kisses him once, twice, and then holds him, Alex leaning against the wall, George leaning against him. "Cute," Alex says, and normally it would be a taunt, and it's definitely still a tease, but when Alex follows it up with a kiss to George's forehead, George just smiles a little.

"What about you?" He asks softly, readjusting himself so he can stand up a little straighter and reach out to run his fingers through Alex's hair. _And how did I never know? Is this just a new thing for you? _He doesn't want to ask that.

Alex leans forward and brings George to kiss him again, which George obliges. "I think in middle school," he whispers after a moment. "I started suspecting you were gay, and I'd never really thought about it much, but I knew I wasn't only attracted to guys...but, it was weird, after I figured out you were. I never really considered that we could ever be more than friends, but then when I started thinking about it...about you, I guess, it was all I could think about."

George can't help the rush of emotion that sweeps over him. _He's been thinking about us too. For real, in real life, since middle school. _ "Fuck," he whispers. He's unable to form any real answer with words. His hands and body, though, have lots of things to express. Almost roughly, he grabs for Alex and pulls him in, sucks the air out of his lungs, turns his lips red. Alex is panting, sliding his mouth away from George's lips and planting kisses along his jawbone that make George feel faint. Soft lips press against his cheek, his neck, down to his collarbone.

George is aware that he's making tiny whimpering noises, but he can't stop, not unless Alex stops torturing him like this. He pushes Alex back against the wall and decides it's his turn, starting with deep, open-mouthed kisses that have Alex's fingers gripping his back tightly, holding George close as he breaks away from Alex's lips and goes exploring down Alex's throat. He tries to be gentle, light, not too rough, but it's hard to stop himself from leaving marks, especially when a particular spot on his neck makes Alex moan. George tucks that information away for later, but he can't resist going over the spot a few times with his lips, feather light, and Alex whines just a tiny bit every time. It makes George feel like he's overheating. 

"Shhh," George whispers gently when Alex whines again, a little too loudly this time. He stops teasing, resisting the urge to take it further, and kisses Alex's lips again, slowly. 

"Sorry, I couldn't help it," Alex whispers in the tiny space between them.

George shakes his head quickly. "Hey, no, it's okay, it's just, you know. Don't want anyone hearing." He feels another flush of heat as he gets out, "I mean, I like...to hear you, myself."

Alex just smiles innocently and kisses him again. George gives in completely and for him, time and space temporarily stop and all he wants is more of Alex's lips on his.

*********************

Max sees Charles again _(finally?) _only in the last period of the day. It's art, and Max sucks at it. He's a terrible artist and he knows it, and he doesn't care. He doesn't even like art. If it hadn't been for the stupid requirements, he wouldn't take this class at all, but between art and music, art is definitely the lesser of two evils. 

Today, the teacher is talking about modern art. 

Max is bored already.

He looks out the window, admires the birds flying past. Normally, he doesn't find it helpful to wish for some other life or some other form, but these days, he's finding that being human is no longer an easy task. _Fucking hell, what is my life coming to when I'm sitting here wishing I could fly away like a bird. How stupid is that._

Drawing his gaze away from the window, he tries to at least hear something important about modern art, something that will probably be on the test, but he really doesn't care and it all looks like sticks and splashes and random lines to him. 

He turns to look out the window again, and that's when he sees Charles, sitting in the corner, unmistakable black hoodie bent over his desk, painted fingernails holding a pencil and drawing something. It's as if he can feel Max looking at him, though, because he abruptly lifts his head and his eyes meet Max's. 

Max looks away quickly, but not quickly enough. He knows Charles knows that he was staring at him, and not for the first time, either. 

Quickly, Max picks up his pencil and makes an effort to appear to be drawing something in his notebook, but all he can draw are squiggly lines. 

He feels like Charles' eyes are on him still. Something about them, though, seemed different. Oddly out of focus, maybe. Or just off, somehow. 

_Then again, how the fuck would I know if they look different or weird. Not like I've looked into them enough to notice._

His brain tries to contradict that _actually, you've probably looked into Charles' eyes more than a lot of people's, _but that's ridiculous and Max is not falling for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah ok, I'm trying to do better on posting. Absolutely no promises.  
Don't get sick/killed by police.  
Comments and kudos welcomed and appreciated very much as always.
> 
> Zig out.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, so soon? Weird.
> 
> Have some Carlos/Lando angst + fluff. 
> 
> Minor warning for panic attack like symptoms.

Lando can feel himself shaking as he runs through the hallway and away from the cafeteria. He doesn't even really know where he's running to, but he knows he has to get away from George and Alex, has to go somewhere quiet and fucking think.

_What the fuck is Carlos getting mixed up in?_

His mind feels like the glitter swirling around in a snowglobe. Nothing makes much sense, and his heart is pounding. _Am I afraid? Upset? Panicking? _He doesn't know. He turns down another few hallways and finds himself next to the stairwell, and he decides that the space underneath the concrete steps will work fine. He can look outside through the glass wall and even though normally there would be a few kids chilling underneath the stairs, right now everything is quiet and the halls are empty.

He strips the backpack off his back, sets it down, and sits next to it. After a moment of blankly staring out the window onto the manicured school lawn, he pulls his knees up and rests his forehead on them. 

_Okay, don't be silly. Gotta sort this out one thing at a time. _

He takes a couple deep breaths and categorizes his thoughts as best he can manage. 

_So. Has Carlos been lying?_

It's hard to think about, and Lando isn't proud of what that tells him about how much he's really fallen for Carlos. He forces himself to consider it, though.

_He said he wasn't involved in any of that shit anymore. Nothing illegal, nothing he could get expelled for. He promised._

Somehow it doesn't make him feel comforted. _But, he could've lied. Everyone says he's a bad kid. He could be getting involved with Sergio again, I guess. _

Lando realizes his hands are still shaking. He tries to steel himself and steady everything while he pulls out his phone, opens it up, and stares at his text history with Carlos, fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

** _We need to talk. _ **

_Nope, cliche, and probably would freak him out._ He deletes the message. _Maybe a more direct approach?_

** _Are you getting mixed up in Sergio's bs again? I heard rumors. want you to tell the truth once and for all._ **

He debates, and debates, and deletes that too. 

** _Heard some rumors, ppl saying your selling test answers or some shit. better be fake._ **

No, Lando isn't that confrontational, and he doesn't want to be _that _boyfriend who tells his partner how things "better be" so he deletes that too. _Fucking hell. Maybe best not to do it over text._

_ **Have something to ask you. Meet me after school?** _

_Yeah, that works. _He sends it before he can overthink it any further, and tries not to stare at his phone in an effort to make Carlos answer.

Footsteps echo in the hall behind him, but from where Lando is sitting, he knows no one can see him, and so he just waits as the steps pass by, here and there a couple more people passing through, laughter from some girl, some boy yells "Keep it in your pants!" and Lando jumps a bit, but the voices and footsteps recede and silence returns.

Lando's phone vibrates, and it's Carlos. _**ok. everything ok? <3 **_

_**Yeah. 👍🏻 all good in the hood. **_ And Lando's mouth feels a little dry, even though he hadn't even had to say the lie out loud.

_ **ok, jump in my car after last period but be quick bc gotta be home.** _

Throat tightening a bit, Lando just types out an **_ok_** and leaves it at that, because honestly he's nothing sure what else to say. 

More footsteps sound in the hallway, but this time they're very light and they stop on the other side of the stairs. Lando doesn't move. He's in no mood to see or speak to anyone else, and the sooner whoever it is gets the fuck on with their life, the happier he will be.

The person isn't moving, though. They're tapping a finger on the metal handrail, tapping a foot lightly against the cement of the steps. It's just enough movement that Lando can feel the vibrations and hear the slight pinging noise of someone's fingernail striking the metal. _ting, ting, ting. They're waiting for someone. Great. Bloody move on already, no people anymore today._

He can hear someone else approaching too, though, so he's pretty sure they won't be hanging around long. 

"Hey dude," someone says casually, and Lando isn't really listening. Whatever the reason for meeting in an empty hallway, it concerns him not at all and he'd like to keep it that way. He considers jumping out and showing himself, _Boo, motherfuckers, bet you thought you were being all stealthy, bitches. _But he's tired and he feels drained, not emotionally up to playing pranks on random people.

"Yo, Este. We're good, I got it taken care of. He's in it now."

He does recognize the second voice. It's almost an accent like Carlos, but not quite. _Sergio, the man himself. How ironic,_ he thinks to himself dryly, and now he's definitely not going to try and prank them, because he has no intention of dealing with Sergio at all today. _He's in it now? Wait, what?_

"Told you," says the first voice, and now Lando feels he can reasonably guess that it's Esteban Ocon, even though Esteban barely ever speaks, because Sergio only has like two friends and it's definitely not Romain. 

"Yeah, you did. You were right."

"Honey, I'm always right," Esteban says in a falsetto voice, and there's the sound of giggling and a light scuffle, but it's getting quieter and more distant, and at last the footsteps are gone and Lando is alone again.

He feels like there's something sitting on his chest.

*****************************

Somehow, Lando drags himself through the last few hours of his school day. Nothing really sticks with him, and he feels like a zombie, brainlessly stumbling from room to room and aimlessly waiting for time to pass. But when it has passed, and the final bell rings, and he's free to walk out and join Carlos in his car at the curb, Lando still can't bring himself to hurry. 

It's like his feet know better than his mind that he shouldn't be in such a hurry to get to the end of his first real relationship, which he has no doubt is what will happen when he asks Carlos about all this mess. 

_Even if he isn't involved _(and a small part of Lando is screaming very loudly that he obviously is), _he's going to be pissed that I don't trust him and he's going to tell me to fuck right off. _

_You could just not ask him, _his mind suggests helpfully. He's been considering that option a lot through the last few hours, and it's very appealing, but he knows he can't make that work. _I just have to know. I can't pretend it's all fine, if he's going to lie to me, I mean...he's a fucking junior, and..._ And Lando feels like an idiot, feels like he should've seen this coming. Of course Carlos would say anything to him. Lando's a fucking freshman, after all. He feels grossly naive. 

_Bet he's been with other guys before too. Probably said that just to make me feel special or some shit. _

He wants to turn aside into the bathroom and cry, or throw up, or smoke a lot of pot for real, he's not sure which, maybe all three. But he doesn't, he blinks firmly, grips his backpack straps like death, and walks straight ahead and out of school. 

Carlos' car is at the curb. He opens the door and gets in, and Carlos takes off, just like always, but Lando doesn't look at him, he just stares straight ahead.

"Lando?" Carlos asks. 

But Lando doesn't answer. He can feel Carlos giving him sideways looks as he drives, but he doesn't let himself turn his head.

They pull up all too quickly at their hidden nook and the car stops, and Lando is suddenly concerned he might burst into tears. He bites his lip hard.

Carlos turns off the car, unbuckles his seatbelt, and turns towards Lando. Even out of the corner of his eye, Lando can see the look of concern on his face. _It seems very real. But is it?_

"Lando, baby, what's wrong?" Carlos asks, and his tone is so cautious that Lando feels even closer to tears. _This is not how it was supposed to go. I'm supposed to ask him, he tells me the truth, I yell at him, get out, and storm off, and that's it. He's not supposed to get all sweet and loving. He's supposed to get irritated and annoyed. _

"Lando," Carlos says again, still just as gentle. "What's wrong? Can you tell me please? Or can I...like, do anything?" He reaches out awkwardly, as if unsure if he's doing it right, and puts a hand on Lando's shoulder. It's warm, and he squeezes lightly, and Lando bursts out crying _like a fucking baby, jesus christ Lando, this is all wrong. You're so fucking awful at this._

"Baby!" Carlos says quickly, surprise in his voice. Before Lando can react, Carlos is sliding over the middle console between their seats and pushing his way in to sit with Lando in the passenger seat, pulling him into his lap and wrapping his arms around him. 

Lando feels frozen, overwhelmed by the display, and confused, and against his better judgement he buries his face in Carlos' shirt and just stays there because he can't think of anything else to do at the moment. Everything inside his brain is yelling at him to _ask him about Sergio, make him tell you the truth, _but he has to take several long minutes of deep breaths and gasps before he can start to put his thoughts together coherently. 

When he can breathe again, Carlos is playing with his curls, and Lando can feel that he's resting his chin on top of Lando's head. 

In spite of everything, Lando feels a flood of affection before the nagging voice in his brain rises to the surface again. He pulls away from Carlos, just a little bit, but enough to see his face, and Carlos is looking at him, concerned and questioning at the same time.

"Sorry," Lando says, and has to clear his through. "Ahem. Sorry."

"No, no sorry," Carlos says, frowning. "What is it the matter, Lando? You said nothing was wrong!"

Lando sighs and uses the end of his shirt to wipe tears away, embarrassment at his emotional outburst starting to set in. He decides to put that guilt on the burner for later. "Carlos, I...someone said...I mean, I heard..."

Carlos cocks his head, waiting for Lando to get the words right, eyebrows quirking a bit, _and it's so cute when they do that, fuck, why does he have to be cute?_

"Alex and George were in the bathroom," Lando finally says, and realizes from Carlos' look that he's making no sense. "I mean, this morning. Alex and George were in the bathroom, and they heard you. They said you were talking about tests, and selling them, or some shit, or whatever, and they said you were with Sergio."

Carlos' eyes close heavily.

Lando can't stop now. The words keep coming. "And you promised, you said you wouldn't do anything like that anymore, you said Sergio wasn't even a friend of yours. You promised, and you lied to me, and now I just want to know why, Carlos? Is it because I'm a freshman, you think I will just believe anything? Did you lie to me about other stuff? Have you...I mean, are you, I mean...were you telling me the truth about not being with another guy before me, or did you...say that so I would feel special or something? Just, at least tell me, because I want to know or I think I might go crazy, I think it's just too much, and my brain is just going to go in circles forever and wonder what I did or what happened and I-"

"Lando, Lando, breathe," Carlos' deep voice says, and Lando realizes he's breathless and hyperventilating a bit. _Great, I'm such a child. _ But, Lando realizes, he's not angry, he's just...hurt. He wanted to be pissed at Carlos, and he still wants to be angry, but he can't be. He feels tired and sad.

"Will you let me explain?" Carlos asks, and Lando wants to say no, because _what if he's going to bullshit me some more,_ but he nods. 

"I wasn't going to tell you because...it involves us," Carlos says slowly, and Lando watches him, not sure where this is going, but increasingly concerned. "Sergio, he knows somehow. Maybe he has seen something? I don't know. But he knows that you and me, we are something."

It's not at all what Lando expected, and he can feel his heart drop into his stomach.

"He told me, this morning, to meet him in the men's room, and he said...he said, "I know you're a homo, and it's no problem" but then...he asked if my parents know. And I could tell when he said it, he knows they do not know this."

Lando feels cold. He can feel Carlos' arms, still around his shoulders, stiffening slightly.

"Then he said I should do him one favor if I'm not an idiot. He wants the answer key for Mr. Raikonnen's tests. He says if I do not...he will make sure everyone knows that I am gay. And I will regret it."

Lando doesn't know what to say to that. He feels guilty for accusing Carlos, but he's still a little hurt. He's not sure what he feels, or why really. "I'm sorry."

Carlos pulls him in close again and puts his hand in Lando's curls, and Lando decides he likes that more than he's ever thought he would. "No sorry, Lando. Not your fault." There's a pause before Carlos reaches down and slides his hand into Lando's and leans back to look him in the eye. "And, Lando, please, I have not lied, I do not want to lie to you, I like you very much. I do not like that you worry that I will tell you lies to make you feel special. To me you are special, no lying."

Lando finds himself fighting tears again, and blinks quickly.

"Lando, I am still getting used to this...being gay," Carlos explains awkwardly, looking away, a little embarrassed. Lando almost has to smile. "It's not a lie that I have not done...things with another guy before, things like I want to do with you. No wanting to lie to you, baby, I feel very embarrassed because you are younger and I am not more experienced." 

Lando can't suppress a giggle. Carlos looks at him quickly, and a smile flickers on his face as well. 

"I'm sorry, Carlos," Lando says, and he wraps his arms around him tightly and presses his face into Carlos' shoulder again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be like this."

"I already told you, no sorry, Lando!" Carlos scolds gently, hugging him back. "I am sorry, I should not have thought I would not tell you." 

"Yeah," Lando mumbles. "You have to tell me this kind of shit, okay? So we can fix it together."

Carlos laughs lightly. "Okay, Lando. I will do."

"What are we going to do about Sergio?" 

Heaving a sigh, Carlos rests his chin on Lando's head again. "No idea."

Lando doesn't know either, so he keeps quiet and just lets himself lean against his boyfriend quietly. He feels calmer in one sense, his panic and fear about the relationship that he's grown so fond of is gone, but the nervousness about their predicament with Sergio is starting to rise in him. 

"We'll figure it out," Carlos murmurs comfortingly, patting Lando's back gently. "I can stall for a while until we can find a way to deal with him."

"That sounds so mafia."

Carlos snorts. "Not like that."

"I know."

They sit there for a while, sharing the tight passenger seat, Lando on Carlos' lap, and it evolves from cuddling to a slow, lazy makeout session, and back to cuddling and talking in whispers about dumb random things, until Carlos looks at the clock and then back at Lando. He sighs heavily. 

"I'm already late to get home. I will tell them some bullshit thing, but I have to get going or my dad is going to be calling me lots of times."

Lando makes a face, but he knows it's true, so he doesn't try to keep Carlos from detaching himself and climbing back into the driver's seat. Carlos takes his hand as they pull out of the parking lot and head down the street. 

There's comfortable silence until Carlos makes a face and looks over at Lando. "You said George and Alex were in the bathroom this morning and heard Sergio talking to me?"

Lando nods.

Carlos frowns harder. "I didn't see them. I wonder where they were hiding."

Lando raises his eyebrows. "I mean, probably they were just in the stalls or something, right?"

"Yeah..." Carlos says, still seeming unconvinced. "But...I only remember one door shut. They must have been hiding inside it. Oh well."

Lando doesn't comment further, but something is flickering in the back of his mind. _Weird. Why did they hide in the first place? And why in the same stall? I mean, they're weird, and they're best friends, but that's convenient. _

He's still thinking about it after he's kissed Carlos a quick goodbye and he's walking down the street towards home. _Really weird of them, _he decides finally, as he opens the back door. _Maybe I'll give them some crap about it and see what happens._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to anyone who might be still around reading this even though I'm so inconsistent and unreliable. If I didn't have readers still, this would be dead in the water.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: internalized homophobia.

Max ducks out of art class as soon as he's able, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and heading quickly down the flights of concrete stairs and making a quick turn towards the gym and locker rooms. He likes to be there early so he can get into his gear in the mostly empty locker rooms. 

Everyone else dawdles in the halls and by the lockers and talks and goofs off for a bit before they head over to the locker rooms for sports practices, but Max never does. He's focused, and he likes space from the chaos that haunts the school walkways and halls. When he reaches the men's locker room and walks in, he's alone. It's not unusual. He sticks his earphones in, grabs his duffel from the locker, and starts putting on his football pads and uniform. 

He's really vibing to a song by Drake when he happens to glance in the mirror and almost jumps. He pulls out one earphone and turns around. 

Charles is standing there in his trademark hoodie and black jeans, nails painted, eyeliner, and two silver chain necklaces. Max notices that the sleeves of the hoodie are just a bit too long, a little stretched out, maybe a little worn. He doesn't know why he notices the detail. _Maybe it's just the lighting in here._ But his mind is racing.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He hisses, looking around frantically to confirm there's no one else here. "Jesus, this is why they call you Creepy Charlie. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."

Charles just shrugs. He's pulling at the laces of his hoodie without seeming to notice, like it's a nervous habit. "I know you come down here first thing after school, before anyone else does."

"And? You thought you'd scare the hell out of me for the fuck of it, or what??"

Charles shakes his head, and shrugs again before tilting his head sideways to look at Max. _His eyes do look weird. Or something. Maybe he's tired? Maybe it's just the eyeliner. _

"No," Charles says slowly, as if he was thinking about what to say. "I was actually thinking we could..."

Max looks at him expectantly, not sure whether to be annoyed, afraid, or just confused.

"Uh, I was thinking we could...do this," Charles says quickly, and before Max can process what's happening, Charles is kissing him with his black makeup-lined eyes closed.

Max's brain isn't fully operational for several seconds, and when his mind comes back online, he's kissing Charles back. He wants to kiss him, he wants, _well, I want a lot of fucking things, but you can't have everything you want, now can you?"_

His father's voice runs through his head. _I__f you can't control your fucking wants and wishes, you'll never be a man, you'll always be a little boy. You want that? You want to be a child forever?_

_What am I doing?! I can't do this, not here, not now, and especially not with fucking...no, I can't fucking do this, _and he breaks away from Charles and without thinking, he shoves him away, hard. Charles stumbles backwards, almost losing his balance, but regaining it at the last second. He tumbles against the wall and leans against it, panting and staring at Max.

"You shouldn't be here," Max says harshly. "You're not supposed to be here, and what if someone comes? You need to get the fuck out."

Charles is staring at him, seeming a little stunned, still leaning motionless against the wall. "Max, I'm sorry, I thought..."

"I don't care, get lost before the rest of the team gets here," Max cuts him off, and his conscience is burning, but when has he ever let that stop him? _And if any of the team even think I'm buddies with Creepy Charlie, I'll never hea__r the end of it. If they saw anything, any kind of kissing or whatever the fuck it is that he wants from me, Dad would kill me when he found out. _"I'm not gay, I told you."

"And I told you, neither am I!" Charles argues back, his voice both angry and a little higher pitched. 

"Seems like you are," Max fires back pointedly, because _I mean really, who's he kidding with that makeup and nail polish._ But he lowers his voice, realizing that shouting is only going to bring people in faster. _I've really got to get him out of here. The others will be here any second. _"Look, Charles," he says, trying to keep his voice lower. "If they find you in here, you know Lewis and the others will gang up on you and you'll have a hell of a time getting away. You should get while the getting's good, okay?" 

Charles seems to be listening, and he nods, just once. 

Max considers for a moment before adding, "And we can talk about this later. Not here, not now, not anywhere around school. You understand?"

Charles nods quickly this time. 

"Good," Max says, and breathes just a little bit.

Charles straightens his hoodie and looks like he's about to leave, and then digs into his pocket and thrusts a scrap of paper into Max's hand. Max is about to ask what it is, but as soon as it's in his palm, Charles darts out the door and disappears. 

Drake plays on in Max's one remaining earphone. He's suddenly annoyed by the sound and takes it out, shoving both earphones into their charging box. Then he looks at the paper. 

It's a phone number, scrawled in pencil on lined paper. Nothing else. Max isn't sure why he feels a bit of a rush when he looks at it. _Maybe it's just the idea of something forbidden, _he tells himself, turning back to his gear. Down the hall, the sound of voices is coming closer and Max knows it's the rest of the team.

He considers the paper for a moment longer, unsure if he wants to toss it in the trash bin or keep it. _And if I keep it, do I really want to call him? Or text him? Or anything? _

Seb opens the locker room door and walks in, closely followed by Lewis and Valterri, who is wearing sunglasses for some reason.

Max shoves the paper into the pocket of his duffel bag and zips the pocket closed. _I'll decide what to do later. If I remember it's even there._

He knows that's a vain hope, though. The duffel bag feels heavier even in the few steps it takes for him to walk to his locker and put it away.

**********************************************

Practice is muddy. It rained sometime early in the morning, and it never dried completely. 

Alex hates practicing in the mud.

He even gets slide-tackled for the ball and ends up on his side, so when he gets up, half his uniform is covered in dirt. _Fucking terrific._

Even so, nothing can dampen his high spirits. He catches himself grinning like an idiot while Coach Abiteboul is talking. Thankfully, he wipes the smile off his face before anyone notices and asks him why he's smiling like a crazy person for no reason in the middle of a muddy field.

He manages to hide another smile later when he pictures George sitting next to him, watching a movie, and the both of them being _very careful _not to let on about their underlying attractions.

_It feels so stupid now. I'm so glad he finally just went for it. Would've been forever if he waiting on me. I'm such a coward. _

He almost feels bad about that, but he can't bring himself to feel anything but happy at the moment. 

By the time practice winds down, he has mud everywhere, in his hair, over his uniform, and even a few splatters on his face. He's on a mission to the showers as soon as Coach blows the whistle. _Shower, then text George. He should be done with track by now._

As usually happens, the soccer team and the football team encounter each other on the walk back to the gymnasium building, and Alex finds himself walking alongside Max, who is every bit as mud covered as Alex is._ Max is good at silent camaraderie,_ Alex thinks, and today they don't talk much.

"Hey. Practice pretty shit?"

"Yep, pretty fucking shit."

And they walk in silence the rest of the way, heading through the parking lot and towards the side door. Alex tries not to touch his hair, but he hates that he can still feel the mud in it.

"Hey, who's that?" Max asks as they turn the corner, jogging his elbow to get his attention. "And also, why are there cop cars here?"

Alex looks up quickly. The rest of the team has also paused to see what's happening. Way up at the far end of the lot there are two police cars with lights flashing, and two officers standing nearby talking to someone. Alex shades his eyes to try and make things out, but the sun is bright and it's far away.

"Hope it's Ocon getting busted again," Max says.

Alex snorts. "You really hate that kid, don't you. That shit happened years ago!"

"I never forget," Max says in a deep, affected voice. "I never forget, and I never forgive."

Alex laughs, and Max chuckles too. The rest of the team is still milling about, trying to see what kind of drama is going down, and while Alex is curious, he really just wants to get inside. _Shower, and text George. _That's about all he's concerned about at the moment. 

Max makes a sound like a "hummm," and Alex looks at him. Max is frowning and shading his eyes again to face the sun.

"What's up?" Alex asks, more out of habit that actual curiosity.

Max doesn't answer for a moment, but then he drops his hand from his eyes and frowns. "Hey, isn't that George's car?"

Suddenly, Alex is paying more attention. "What?" He shades his eyes, trying to see for himself. 

"George's car," Max repeats. "Next to the police cruisers. Doesn't he drive a white VW?" 

"Yeah," Alex says, mouth dry. He can see it now, far up the slope and sparkling in the sun. _George's white Volkswagen. George, what the fuck? _

Guenther Stiener's voice booms over the heads of the chattering teens. "Enough! Enough of this loitering! Go, get in the locker rooms and take a shower! Get going now!"

Alex is still straining to see what's happening.

"Come on," Max says next to him, but Max's voice sounds distant. 

"Um, sorry. I, uh, have to go," Alex mumbles out, and before Max can reply, he's running full tilt across the parking lot towards the flashing lights.

He can hear Coach Steiner's voice yelling, _probably at me, I'm probably in trouble, _but he doesn't stop, because if it's George up here with the cops, he feels compelled to check on him, make sure he's okay. _No ambulance, though, that's a good sign._

As he gets closer, he can see George standing there with the officers, and he wants to call out to him, but his lungs are burning a bit from the mad dash up the hill after a long practice. George looks up, though, and sees him coming. 

"Alex!" He calls out, and Alex waves, slowing to a jog as he gets closer.

"Alex! Alex, stop!" George calls out, and Alex halts immediately at the voice of his _boyfriend? friend? _As he pulls up short, just a few feet from George and the officers, he can see why George stopped him. There's glass everywhere, all around on the ground like hail. 

"George!" Alex gasps, looking around quickly and shuffling carefully through the glass fragments. "What happened??" 

George grabs his hand, and Alex squeezes it tightly as he looks over the scene. "Someone broke all the windows on my car," George says grimly, looking as if he still couldn't believe it. "With a baseball bat or something, I don't know. I just came out and it was...like this."

Alex feels a new kind of anxiety sinking into him. "Romain?"

"I don't know," George says. His face is tight. "Don't know who else it would be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear...not good, not good.
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always, and thanks so much for the lovely comments and support of my sporadic self.


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